


Raven's Fight

by ashtraythief



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Hurt Jensen, M/M, Magic, Magical Tattoos, Minor Character Death, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 01:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9151087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashtraythief/pseuds/ashtraythief
Summary: When Jeff picks up a pretty guy in the roadhouse, he only has an inkling of the trouble he’s getting himself into. Not that he minds.Jensen is on the run, and danger follows right on his heels. Jeff, as it turns out, might just be his salvation.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hybridshade (shimyaku)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shimyaku/gifts).



> Written for hybridshade in the spn_j2_xmas exchange. Dear hybridshade, I’m so, so very sorry this is so late! Pre-christmas work and a bad back kept me from writing. It took me three different ideas and pairings to get to this story and then it just refused to end. But I had a ton of fun playing around with your likes and prompts. I threw a few of your likes together and tried to mix two of your prompts. I hope you like what I came up with. Happy New Year!
> 
> Many thanks to tebtosca for modly patience and understanding.  
> This fic would never have been finished without the necessary tough love from ladyalycat. You’re my rock. Flowers and chocolate for ilikaicalie, my diligent beta who went above and beyond for this fic and to theatrgirl7299 for last minute support. All remaining mistakes are entirely my fault.

  
  
  


Jeff’s been around for a long time. He’s seen lots of things people believe to be impossible. Hell, he’s lived a few of them. He’s survived them, most importantly, and that has given him a sixth sense for danger, for things out of the ordinary, poised to make trouble. The boy at the bar is trouble.

 

He’s not a boy, technically, more a young man in his early twenties, but he’s got big eyes framed by long, dark lashes and a delicate nose. He’s beautiful, in that soft inviting way that hides strength and camouflages hard edges. Jeff’s sure the boy has many of them. 

 

The boy came into Sam’s roadhouse a few minutes ago, wrapped up in a long, shabby coat, face half hidden by a dark scarf against the cold evening air and carrying a traveler's well-worn rucksack. His boots were muddy from the road though he wiped them on the threshold. He sat down at the end of the long bar, far away from the oil lamps, hidden in the shadows. The entrance is visible from there, and behind the boy is the wall and next to him the door to the kitchen. It’s a good place to sit if you think you might need to leave quickly. 

 

Jeff sighs. He expects friends tomorrow and he doesn’t want trouble while they’re in town. It’s rare Jim and Alaina pass through and Jeff intends to spend the day with them, hear the stories, get the latest rumors. In their world, information is hard to come by but crucial to stay alive.

 

The boy ordered a glass of whiskey and the way he presses the tumbler against his full bottom lip and takes a sip is a lazy provocation. Jeff looks out the window. It’s two hours past sunset, the night’s still young. He has time to investigate what kind of trouble the boy is going to be. Because there's the bad kind of trouble, the kind that’ll get you killed. And then there’s the other kind of trouble, the thrilling, fun kind that just  _ might _ get you killed. Jeff would definitely be open to that kind if it comes in the shape of a pretty boy with a mouth made to suck cock.

 

The boy’s whiskey is empty and it’s as good a conversation opener as any. Jeff signals Sam to get a bottle of the good stuff and two new glasses. The boy looks up slowly; he doesn’t seem surprised to see Jeff come over. He watches in silence, shoulders stiff under his dark coat, his face a neutral mask, giving nothing away. Jeff gives him a crooked smile, the one that doesn’t promise bodily harm, except maybe for a love bite, if you’re into that kind of thing. The boy gives no indication if he is. 

 

Jeff sits down next to him and takes a deep breath while he pours. Leather, earth, and a hint of a tart, flowery scent. Human. The boy is human. Jeff isn’t sure what he expected but he wouldn’t have been surprised to smell something supernatural. There’s just something about the boy that makes his senses tingle.

 

“You look like you need a drink,” Jeff says and picks up his glass. 

 

Finally, the boy reacts. He tilts his head, giving Jeff a slightly amused look. Even in the dim light, his eyes are grass green. Fey eyes, Jeff would’ve thought, if he hadn’t scented the boy.

 

“That’s mighty kind of you,” the boy drawls in a surprisingly rough voice and Jeff thinks maybe he’s a few years older than he first assumed. 

 

Jeff gives him a predatory grin. “I’m not known for my kindness.”

 

“No?” The boy doesn’t look scared or even hesitant. He doesn’t look impressed either. If anything, there’s a derisive pull to his full lips, like he’s preparing to deliver a stinging blow that’ll send Jeff packing. “What are you known for then?”

 

“Hospitality, for one,” Jeff says, not intending to give up before he even really tried. “Generosity. A good sense of humor. An appreciation of the finer things in life.”

 

Purposefully, the boy looks around the bar with the mismatched wooden furniture, the uneven floor boards and the faded wall paint. Everything is bathed in the dim light of the soot-caked oil lamps and the one fireplace in the middle of the long side of the room is blocked by a few arm chairs covered in moth-nibbled furs. “And you drink  _ here _ ?”

 

Jeff laughs. “Don’t let Sam hear that. She’ll have you out on your ass before you can finish your drink. I don’t care much for decor. Other things matter,” he says, swirls the whiskey in his glass and looks the boy up and down.

 

The boy coolly looks back. His heartbeat is even. Jeff thinks he might be in a lot of trouble here.

 

“The name’s Jeff,” he says and stretches out his hand. “Jeff Morgan.” He wants to feel the boy’s skin. 

 

“Jensen,” the boy says. It’s not a common name around here. Jeff would bet his tail that the boy has come a long way. 

 

Jensen makes no motion to take Jeff’s hand. Instead, he leans back and looks at Jeff thoughtfully. “So you’re the big bad wolf.”

 

It catches Jeff by surprise, and he lets out a startled huff. “Is that what people say?”

 

Jensen gives him a wry grin, leaning forward. “They say all kinds of things about you. But that’s the general gist of it, yeah.”

 

Jeff grins ruefully. “Well, you've got to understand, this is my land. My pack’s land. I have to protect it. Sometimes people don’t get that. And then I have to make them understand.”

 

Slowly, Jensen nods. There’s a speculative glint in his eyes and they don’t leave Jeff’s face. “I heard that. You wolves, you’re very territorial.”

 

“If that’s a problem for you, you shouldn’t have come here,” Jeff says.

 

He wonders how Jensen knows. Most humans have no clue about the world they’re walking in. They know about creatures of the night, but they only know the scary stories, not necessarily the truth. Werewolves, especially, have a tendency to stay away from most humans, living in pack-only villages in the countryside. Most of Jeff’s own pack members live ten miles from the town of Lawrence in a settlement in the woods.

 

“Oh, no, I don’t have a problem,” Jensen says and the way his eyes wander over Jeff’s body, lingering appreciatively on Jeff’s broad shoulders means he really doesn’t. “Just stating a fact.” 

 

It’s an interesting shift in demeanor. Usually Jeff’s not attracted to people who are just after him for the power but there’s something different in the way Jensen’s flirting with him, now that he knows who Jeff is. 

 

Jeff nods, shifting gears. He needs to find out more about this Jensen. “So, what brings you to Lawrence? We’re not exactly on the scenic route.”

 

“Really?” Jensen asks, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the rim of his glass. “I think there’s plenty to see here.” He looks at Jeff with badly hidden hunger in his eyes, and it’s not entirely sexual.

 

Well.

 

Jeff would be lying if he said he’s not used to it. People who know, whether wolf or not, are intrigued by his power, his reputation. He gets his fair share of offerings, but they’re rarely so forthright, so demanding. Usually people assume — quite correctly — that his dominance in life transfers to his preferences in bed. Most of them however, don’t realize that Jeff likes a challenge. And as open and proffering as Jensen is, Jeff can’t shake the feeling he’s playing with fire here. There’s something about Jensen, something about the barely visible tension in his shoulders, the way he picked his spot in the bar and his well hidden desperation to flirt with Jeff ever since Jeff introduced himself.

 

Jensen wants something from him, only Jeff has no idea what that is. It intrigues him.

 

“Thanks,” Jeff says with his most wolfish smile, acknowledging Jensen’s compliment without returning it, before he leans back and pours them another round of drinks.

 

Disappointment flits barely visible across Jensen’s face. Really, the boy couldn't have thought Jeff would be that easy.

 

“So, Jensen. What’s your story?”

 

Jensen shrugs unconcerned but Jeff is good at reading people. For a moment, Jensen’s whole body tenses before he forces himself to relax. 

 

“There’s no story,” Jensen says. “Just a guy trying to find his place in the world.”

 

Jeff raises his eyebrows in disbelief. 

 

Jensen huffs. “You really want to hear the sob story of how my father threw me out when he found me blowing the neighbor’s son in the backyard? You want to hear how I had nothing but the clothes on my back and tried to find a job without even having a roof over my head?”

 

Jensen’s words are crass, meant to divert. They’re also lies. Jensen’s a good liar and there’s probably enough truth in the story so he can tell it convincingly. The lie doesn’t make his heartbeat stutter, but Jensen’s scent spikes into the sharp tang of nervousness, not in hot anger or heavy sadness.

 

Jeff could push now, but he has a feeling Jensen would bolt before he told him the truth. And Jeff really wants the truth. Not many people try to lie to a werewolf square in the face. Jeff is very intrigued.

 

He empties his glass, waits for Jensen to catch up and then pours them another.

 

“You don’t have to get me drunk,” Jensen says with a teasing smile.

 

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

 

“You’re very interested.”

 

Again, Jeff is startled into a laugh. 

 

Jensen’s lips are very red when he smiles. They would look so good around Jeff’s dick.

 

Regretfully, Jeff strokes his short beard. “I’m not gonna lie, I am. But something this good and this easy, there’s always a catch.”

 

Jensen tilts his head, considers. He blinks a few times and his eyelashes flutter like dark wings over his cheekbones. “I don’t have any money and I really need a bed for the night. I’m not for rent but finding a handsome guy to invite me into his bed is much more comfortable than sleeping out in the barn.”

 

It’s not a lie but Jeff knows instinctively it's another half-truth. He’s not sure if Jensen is looking for something, if he’s on the run or if he’s just one of the many homeless drifters, traveling from town to city, picking up work, sometimes honest, sometimes not, unable to settle down. 

 

He wants to find out.

 

Standing, Jeff takes the bottle. “How about we move this party upstairs?”

 

Another first, Jensen looks at him in real surprise. “You  _ live _ here too?”

 

Jeff laughs. “Nah. But Sam always has a room for me, don’t you, darling?”

 

Sam doesn’t look but she takes a key from a hook behind her and throws it to Jeff who catches it casually, then makes his way over to the well-worn staircase leading upstairs. He hears Jensen follow. 

 

It’s not Sam’s best room, or her biggest, but it’s got a fireplace and windows on two walls, letting the light of the waxing moon filter inside. Below one of the windows, there’s a big, sturdy wooden bed, the bedposts decorated with carved moons in different stages of the cycle. Jeff is a man with a healthy appetite and a lot of strength, he appreciates robust furniture.

 

Jensen enters the room behind him, closes the door and drops his bag on one of the two chairs standing around a table next to the door. Then he stops, hesitates. For the first time, he looks his age, young and unsure.

 

To give him time, Jeff puts down the bottle and lights a fire in the fireplace. When he turns back around, Jensen is still standing in the middle of the room. Jeff knows his reputation, knows how he appears to people. He’s tall and muscled, neither his dark pants nor his black leather jacket hiding that. He’s a predator and he moves like one and his voice is deep and rough. He looks like everyone imagines the alpha of a werewolf pack should look like. In the small room above Sam’s bar, he probably looks even more intimidating.

 

He shoots Jensen a soothing smile when he notices that the boy’s heartbeat is still fairly steady, considering his hesitancy.

 

“There’s one condition,” Jensen finally presses out.

 

“Oh?”

 

Jensen takes off his coat and throws it over a chair. Then he slowly pulls off his dark scarf, leaving him in a faded beige shirt with a dark vest, and gray pants well worn, the hem fraying over his dark boots.

 

With sure movements, he pulls off his vest, unbuttons his shirt. “No questions,” he says.

 

Jeff begins to ask about what, when Jensen takes his shirt off and Jeff understands. The boy is covered in tattoos.

 

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Jeff moves towards Jensen. He inspects the tattoos on his pale skin, the swirling spiral on his chest, the long, claw like lines across the left side of his lightly muscled abdomen. Jensen’s body is lithe and defined, hips slim and shoulders wide without the muscle mass to make him appear broad. Jeff walks around him, draws in a deep breath. Jensen’s entire back is covered by the tattoo of a large, black raven. Its wings are raised back, its talons stretched forward. It’s poised to grip whatever is in front of its talons. When Jeff inspects the wings, he sees that they’re made up of tiny ravens in every position of flight. It’s an impressive tattoo. If it’s not magic, Jeff’s gonna eat his tail. Ravens are birds of old magic, kept as companions by mages.

 

Jeff steps up to Jensen, so close he can feel his body heat. He leans in until his nose is only an inch away from Jensen’s neck and he inhales, loud and purposefully.

 

Leather, earth, and a hint of a tart, flowery scent. The spiky note of whiskey and the unmistakable ripeness of arousal. Good to know Jensen doesn’t only want him for his power. Jeff leans in closer, lets the tip of his nose meet Jensen’s skin. He takes another whiff, concentrating. There, for the first time, he can smell it; the unique scent of magic, something entirely different than anything organic, sharp and singed, but it’s old, faded. 

 

Every new piece of information complicates the puzzle, Jeff thinks. It doesn’t deter him, quite the contrary. Sooner or later, he’s going to find out what happened to Jensen and what he’s looking for.

 

“You smell like magic,” Jeff says quietly, directly next to Jensen’s ear and the boy, who’s been standing very still so far, shudders.

 

“No questions.”

 

“That wasn’t a question, it was a statement.”

 

Jensen huffs. “You want a medal? It’s old magic and not mine. Don’t tell me it scares you.”

 

For that, Jeff drags his teeth along Jensen’s neck. With a sharp intake of breath, Jensen whirls around.

 

“It doesn't scare me,” Jeff says, and it’s true. There’s not a lot of magic that can harm him, not when the magic of the moon and his land flow through him. “Don’t you know that the big bad wolf isn’t scared of anything?”

 

Jensen raises one eyebrow. “Does that line ever work for you?”

 

Jeff grins and licks his lips. Deliberately, he puts his hands on Jensen’s hips, feels the smooth, warm skin under his fingers. With a jerk, he pulls Jensen in close. 

 

“I don’t need any lines. You’re the one coming to me.”

 

Before Jensen can protest or snark back at him, Jeff shuts him up with a kiss. He’s been wanting to taste Jensen’s mouth ever since he saw him with his drink downstairs, and he has a feeling that Jensen would win a verbal sparring match any day. Kissing Jensen seems like the best strategy to keep the upper hand.

 

At first, Jensen’s entire body is tense, a coil of sinewy muscle ready to spring, but then he relaxes into Jeff’s body. He tilts his head up and presses in, his lips moving against Jeff’s with demanding force. 

 

For a moment, Jeff lets him. He catalogs Jensen’s taste, the feel of his body pressing against Jeff’s, his hands wandering over Jeff’s shoulders, one of them sliding into the hair at the back of his head. Then Jeff grips Jensen’s hip tightly with his left and brings his right hand up to cradle his face, tilt it so Jeff can kiss him deeper, take him how he wants him.

 

Jensen lets him. The thrill of it rushes through Jeff. This contradictory, snarky boy is yielding to him, letting Jeff touch and taste. With ease, Jeff reaches down and grips Jensen’s leg, pulls him up. The boy goes with it, wraps his legs around Jeff’s waist and lets Jeff carry him to the bed without protest.

 

Jeff lays Jensen down on the bed, then watches the boy while he takes his own clothes off. Jensen doesn’t make a move to remove his pants or shoes, instead he lies back propped up on his elbows and watches Jeff intently. His big green eyes are luminous in the firelight, the flames’ shadows dancing ominously over his tattoos. 

 

Lying there, half-naked and relaxed, a predatory gleam in his eyes, he looks more dangerous than ever. It makes Jeff’s blood sing in anticipation, pulls his hunting instincts to the surface. There’s danger here, but Jeff has his eyes on the prize.

 

When he’s naked, he crawls up the bed. Jensen just spreads his legs to make room for him. Slowly, Jeff noses up Jensen’s leg, reaches up to open his pants and pull them down. When he reaches Jensen’s feet, he tugs his boots off too.

 

Jensen’s right foot is unmarked, but his left foot is covered in leaves. Jeff grips his ankle, almost expects to feel the leaves, so realistic is their depiction. But there’s only smooth skin under his hands and then Jensen’s foot twitches and he tries to pull it out of Jeff’s grasp.

 

Jeff grins up at him. “Ticklish?”

 

Jensen glares. “You better not try it out if you want to get laid tonight.”

 

Jeff laughs, but doesn’t let go of Jensen’s foot. He’s careful though only to grip the ankle, while he crawls up in the bed, pulling Jensen’s leg up with him until it’s bent at the knee, half cradling Jeff’s body as he hovers over Jensen.

 

“No tickling then,” he says quietly.

 

“Good,” Jensen says and draws up his other leg, hooking his foot up against Jeff’s ass and pulling him closer.

 

The air is heavy with anticipation and the scent of their arousal. Jeff can feel Jensen’s hardness between his legs, his erection rubbing against Jeff’s. He really wants to take his time, figure out what will make Jensen fall apart, but then Jensen’s mouth finds his neck, works his way up with biting kisses, sucking bruises that won’t last into Jeff’s skin. The sensation is still electrifying, sending shivers down Jeff’s spine, building on the urgency humming along under his skin. 

 

Jensen’s fingers dig into his shoulder, scratch along the bloody-grinned fool tattooed on his upper arm. Dragging in deep lungfuls of Jensen’s arousal drenched scent, Jeff leans down, noses along Jensen’s collarbone until he finally gets his mouth on Jensen’s pulse point. To his deep satisfaction, Jensen’s pulse is quick, beating strongly under Jeff’s lips. He grins, then drags his teeth over it.

 

Jensen moans, tightens his legs around Jeff’s waist. “Come on.”

 

Jeff decides that he can take it slow another time. Maybe he's gonna fuck Jensen again when the sun is rising, when he's still sleepy and pliant. Now that Jensen is a writhing and demanding mess beneath him Jeff just wants to hold him down and fuck him until he comes screaming Jeff's name. 

 

It doesn't take Jeff more than a few seconds to get the small bottle of oil from the nightstand drawer but when he looks back to Jensen, the boy is on all fours. He's looking at Jeff over his shoulder with an insolent, daring smile while he arches his spine, offering his pale and firm ass like the prize it is. 

 

It takes Jeff a moment to realize that the growl vibrating through the room is coming from deep within his own chest and for the first time this evening Jensen looks startled. With his vision focused in a way that lets him see the flecks of gold in Jensen's green irises, reduced to a slim ring around blown pupils, Jeff realizes he's shifting unconsciously towards his wolf form. He blinks and shakes his head like a wolf shaking water from his fur. His vision goes back to human, losing the wolf's yellow glow that probably startled Jensen. 

 

“Scared of the big bad wolf?” Jeff asks and slowly reaches out to run his hands over Jensen's back down to his ass. 

 

Instead of flinching away like Jeff almost expected, Jensen closes his eyes and arches up into Jeff's hands. “Scared is not the word I'd use.”

 

It makes something in Jeff bristle, makes him want to bare his teeth, but it also makes him want to preen. Jensen might not be scared of Jeff's wolf but he's aroused by it. Jeff can work with that. 

 

He covers Jensen’s body with his own and growls at the feeling of Jensen’s lithe but strong body, the smooth skin and the way Jeff can feel his muscles tense in anticipation. 

 

Jensen’s reaction is more than satisfying. He lets out a moan he tries cut off before Jeff hears it and his heartbeat picks up, a choppy staccato that makes Jeff rumble in pleasure. It's more instinct than anything else when he licks up Jensen’s neck, scraping his teeth along the tendons until he gets to the part where neck meets shoulder and he bites down. 

 

Jensen curses under his breath and reaches back to get a hand in Jeff's hair. “Come on, fuck me already.”

 

Jeff grins against Jensen’s skin and explores his upper body with his hands. “Ask nicely.”

 

Jensen makes a frustrated noise. “I don't beg, asshole.”

 

Jeff is just about to go for a teasing reply when Jensen moves his body, does something with his hips too smooth for Jeff to compute. All he knows is that suddenly his dick is trapped between Jensen's moving thighs, and the pressure and the friction make him groan. 

 

“Let's play later, okay?” Jensen pants out. “I really need you to fuck me now.”

 

“Just so you know,” Jeff manages to get out while he gets his fingers and his dick slick with oil, “that counts as begging.”

 

“You…” whatever else Jensen wanted to say gets swallowed up in the prettiest moan when Jeff slides two fingers inside of him. 

 

He's hot and tight and Jeff needs to draw on all his self-control to take the time to relax Jensen enough instead of just taking him. 

 

He loses sense of time. There's nothing but Jensen’s body, the sounds of his labored breathing and his hammering heart, and the scent of his arousal tinged with a strange but almost familiar sharpness. 

 

But then Jensen turns his head to look at him, eyes half lidded and mouth bitten red. “I'm ready. You can fuck me, I'm ready.”

 

Jeff's body runs on his primal instincts when he grips Jensen’s hips and shoves roughly inside. There's heat and pressure and his wolf howls in triumph. 

 

He moves his hips driven by the need to be closer, to hold and possess. Jensen moves with him, panting half intelligible curses and praise which make Jeff's chest swell with pride. 

 

As their bodies move in sync in a perfect and violent push and pull, Jeff feels his body thrill with the power of the moon. The heady rush he only experiences under the full moon in his wolf form takes him by surprise but with Jensen under him, it feels right. 

 

“Oh Gods.” Jensen falls down to his elbows. “Do that again.”

 

Through the haze of pleasure Jeff manages to recreate the angle and find the spot that makes Jensen scream. 

 

Jeff's own orgasm is building, his whole body singing with the moon's power and Jensen’s presence. 

 

Then Jensen comes, body clenching around Jeff, head thrown back and moaning Jeff's name. 

 

The rush of power and pleasure, the pressure of Jensen’s body, it makes Jeff howl as he comes. In the aftershocks, he collapses on Jensen’s back, suddenly completely drained like he'd run a whole night under the full moon. His entire body is tingling pleasantly and Jensen’s satisfied, yet tired scent fills his nose. He has the presence of mind to roll off of Jensen so he doesn't squash him and a moment to think that this was different before sleep pulls him under. His last conscious feeling is Jensen lying safely in his arms.

  
  
  


Jensen wakes with the sunrise. It’s still ingrained in him, this habit from his childhood. With the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon, the rooster traveling with his parents’ wagon had crowed, shrill and loud. Usually it stood on the ledge right outside of Jensen’s window. But Jensen had remained in bed, luxuriating in the time it took his father to come wake him. Some days, his father was up quickly and Jensen had only moments to enjoy the warm softness of his bed. Other days, close to a quarter hour passed until the curtain from his alcove was pulled back. 

 

Now that he’s on his own, Jensen still wakes with the sun. He keeps lying in bed, at least for a few moments, when he’s in that space where he can pretend all is okay; where his day, and the ugly world he now lives in, hasn’t started yet.

 

When there’s a two hundred pound werewolf lying next to him and heating the bed up like a furnace, the pretending is difficult.

 

Jeff is sleeping peacefully, deep even breaths. He doesn’t snore. Jensen supposes he should be grateful for the little things.

 

He stretches, and he’s sore everywhere, in the good way. His ass might protest today, but there’s nowhere he’s got to go. He hadn’t planned on this, but, then again, Jensen hadn’t planned on any of this.

 

Last night was different than usual. He'd never slept with a werewolf before or any other supernatural creature for that matter. It’s an unnecessary risk to expose himself. But Jeff could protect him. He's got a reputation as one of the most powerful alphas ruling an ancient and vast territory. From the stories Jensen had thought Jeff would be much older, then again werewolves live longer than humans do. Jeff might very well be eighty years old, even though he doesn't look any older than his late thirties. His face is smooth and unlined, only his salt and pepper beard gives the impression of a higher age. It doesn't really matter to Jensen. Jeff is a powerful alpha in his prime and the story of how he dealt with his last challenger is told in fearful whispers far and wide. If Jensen plays his cards right he could rest here, make a plan. Hide from the minions he sensed catching up. Last night, he'd felt the magic of the moon that fuels werewolves’ powers. His raven tattoo had tingled with it, strained towards it. He's not sure if Jeff noticed but Jensen is pretty sure he wouldn't draw the right conclusions. Then again, what Jensen is, what Timothy turned him into, it's unheard of. And the way Jensen felt Jeff's powers, running through the werewolf and calling to Jensen, just out of reach, it made him think. Considering how energized Jensen felt, some of Jeff’s power might even have flown into the ravens. He was awake long after Jeff had fallen asleep, hadn't closed his eyes before he came up with a plan. 

 

Well, it's really more a half-formed idea than a plan. He hadn’t even considered the possibility before he met Jeff last night. He’d planned on passing through Jeff’s territory undetected. Werewolves are supposed to be wild and savage, with a keen nose for trouble. Jensen hadn’t thought the alpha of the Lawrence pack would hang out in a dingy little roadhouse.

 

It might work out in his favor. Jensen can’t be sure, he’ll have to do some research — and how he’s supposed to get his hands on the right books out here in the middle of nowhere he has no idea — but for now, he should be safe.

 

Jeff’s reputation is well known and no one who brings trouble would think to come here. Timothy will never suspect him out here. It’ll be a while before his minions will think to search for Jensen in werewolf territory. Jensen has time.

 

“Penny for your thoughts.” Jeff’s rough voice startles him. The werewolf is still lying on his back, eyes closed, but his arm comes up to cup Jensen’s head, blunt fingernails softly scratching his scalp.

 

Jensen sighs and rolls over, resting his head on Jeff’s broad chest. He runs his hand through the dark hairs there, not as many and not as thick as he would have thought. He likes it. Jeff’s body is solid and strong and the human touch grounds him.

 

“Thanks for the bed,” Jensen says instead of answering Jeff’s question.

 

“Thanks for gracing it with your presence,” Jeff answers and runs his hand down Jensen’s back. It makes the raven tattoo tingle. That’s new. It's never reacted to touch before. Maybe it's residue from last night. Usually it only tingles when Timothy’s minions are close, like a warning bell. It had tingled two days ago. The minions are closing in on him.

 

“Does it come with complimentary breakfast?” Jensen asks to distract himself.

 

Jeff huffs. “You’re gonna stick around long enough for some eggs and bacon?”

 

Jensen looks up at him. “You wanna get rid of me?”

 

Jeff’s thick eyebrows raise up sharply. “I don’t want to get rid of you at all. But last night I got the impression you were the blowing-through-town kind of guy.”

 

With a grin, Jensen lies back down, burrows closer into Jeff’s side and feels his arm tighten around him. “Nah. I’m more the aimless-wandering kind of guy. I could be persuaded to stay.”

 

Before Jensen has fully processed the movement, Jeff has already rolled him on his back and is looming over him with a predatory grin. “Is that so?” he asks, his voice dipped down to a low growl.

 

“With breakfast,” Jensen says with emphasis, because he really is starving and he learned early on that running on an empty stomach is not a good idea.

 

He’s not sure when he had his last real meal, maybe four days ago when he met a shepherd out with his herd and dogs. The man had enthusiastically shared his food and sleeping bag with Jensen. It had been nice, but it doesn’t compare to the feelings Jeff arouses in his body.

 

Jeff just laughs, a low smooth sound that makes Jensen’s stomach flip. “Breakfast is on its way. In the meantime…” And then he bends his head to nose along Jensen’s neck, bites a spot just above his collarbone that makes Jensen hiss.

 

He’s pretty sure Jeff marked him up good, the werewolf has a predictable proclivity for Jensen’s neck. Jensen’s just surprised how much that turns him on.

 

“I also thought a bath before breakfast…”

 

He trails off when Jeff raises his head to look at him. His eyes are glowing, a faint amber. “You really want to leave this bed today?”

 

For a moment, Jensen is spellbound, just like last night, when he saw Jeff’s wolf eyes for the first time. He was scared at first, but only for a moment. 

 

Jeff might be an alpha werewolf, might be able to tear Jensen into tiny pieces with his bare hands but he’s not going to hurt Jensen. He  _ likes _ Jensen, likes his body and likes the mystery of him. And that’s not going to change. Jeff’s probably the best lay Jensen's ever had so he’s going to keep offering his body to him. And he’s certainly not going to tell Jeff why he’s out here, hiding in the middle of werewolf territory. He might have to drop some hints, here and there, to let Jeff think he’s getting somewhere. But he’s not going to tell his story until he knows he's safe. And for that, he’ll need books. 

 

There’s time for that later. Now, Jensen can let himself sink back into the soft pillow, can let Jeff manhandle him around with his strong capable hands. Sex before breakfast, Jensen thinks as Jeff pushes inside, is a thing he can get used to.

  
  
  


Sam left a tray with breakfast outside the door sometime during their morning fuck. Jeff’s nose picks up the scent of bacon while he’s lying next to Jensen in the rumpled sheets, despite the fact that the bed, hell the whole room, reeks of them. He gets up and opens a window before getting the breakfast tray. As much as he likes smelling them together, he’s a fan of fresh air.

 

Jensen’s sitting up against the headboard, his eyes tracking the tray. Jeff wonders when the boy last ate but he doubts he’d get a straight answer if he asks.

 

“Breakfast is served,” is all he says and they eat in companionable silence. Sam made a big breakfast and Jeff watches Jensen demolish half the serving before Jeff’s through half his plate.

 

Jensen only notices when he’s done how quickly he ate. A faint blush steals up his cheeks. “Keeping up with a werewolf takes a lot of energy.”

 

Jeff nods amicably, but he has a feeling it’s been awhile since Jensen had a proper meal. He makes a mental note to tell Sam to send them a big lunch and a big dinner. It’s a good thing she loves feeding up strays.

 

After breakfast, Jensen demands a bath again and Jeff watches him step into the tub Sam’s servants bring up. The expression on Jensen’s face is pure relaxed pleasure as he leans back and closes his eyes. Jeff can’t resist and gets himself a small stool to sit down next to Jensen’s head, picking up the sponge.

 

Jensen makes a pleased rumble when Jeff starts to rub the soapy sponge across his arms and chest.

 

“So, what’s your plan here?” he asks.

 

Jensen squints one eye open. “I told you, I’m wandering. There’s no plan.”

 

There’s no audible lie but Jeff still has the feeling Jensen’s hiding something. Best not to have Jensen around tonight. Jeff needs to get his feelers out, see what shit is brewing in the world.

 

“I have friends coming into town tonight,” Jeff says. “I’ll talk to Sam, make sure you can stay up here.”

 

Jensen opens both eyes and turns his head to Jeff. “What, no invitation to meet the friends yet?”

 

Jeff snorts.

 

Jensen grins. “Fine. I’ll just take a walk into town. My bag’s falling apart, I hope there’s someone there who can fix it.”

 

Again, no lie, and again Jeff’s sure Jensen is hiding something. Well, he’ll figure it out eventually. For now, he’s gonna join Jensen in the tub and watch his rosy-warmed skin while he rides Jeff’s dick.

  
  
  
  


Jim and Alaina ride into town, the first gusts of stormy winds billowing their coats. The clouds have been building on the horizon all day, a dark front of clouds just waiting to release their cold power. 

 

Jeff met them before he became alpha, back when he was traveling. Jim was a young, hapless scholar, protecting his only valuable possession, the chronicle he was writing, with a stick from two robbers. Jeff had assisted and in return, he’d been named heroically in said chronicle. 

 

Jim and Jeff traveled together for a while until a lord asked them to get rid of the beast terrorizing his land. In the woods, Jeff had found a vicious tiger who turned into a beautiful, redeheaded woman. After she told him why she terrorized the stealing, brutal lord, Jeff had switched sides and aided in her efforts to displace the lord. Jim had, once again, written everything down neatly. An experience like that forges lifelong bonds.

 

“You made it just in time,” Jeff comments when they enter the bar and he can’t stop himself from scanning the road. Jensen made his way into town a couple of hours ago and he’s not back yet. 

 

Jeff told him he could come back whenever, that he wouldn’t mind him hanging out upstairs and Jensen had kissed his cheek and told him he’d see him later.

 

“Jeff!”

 

Startled, he looks at Alaina. “What are you yelling at me for?”

 

She raises her eyebrows sardonically. “Well, if you don’t answer the first three times I  _ say _ your name because you’re too busy dreaming about some new piece of ass…”

 

“I was not—”

 

“Oh please,” she says and boxes his shoulder. Jeff hides a flinch. “I can smell him all over you.” She smirks. “Do we get to meet him?”

 

“No,” Jeff grumbles and makes his way to the back of the tap room, to his usual table. “And keep your nose out of my personal business.” 

 

Alaina’s deep scratchy laugh follows him through the room.

 

Jim’s already at the bar, doing his gruff-flirty dance with Sam. He’s going to be awkward, she’s going to tease him and at the end of the night, she’s going to invite him into the back, where circular stairs lead from the storeroom up to her own apartment.

 

Everybody knows how the night’s going to end for the two of them, but they still do their little dance. Jeff figures it’s their own version of foreplay.

 

Jeff and Alaina sit and it doesn’t take Jim long to come over with their drinks. Red wine, the good one from the deepest corner of Sam’s cellar for Alaina, beer for Jeff and dark ale for Jim. Not many people around here drink it so Jeff figures Sam keeps it in stock for Jim. He always says it reminds him of home.

 

They clink their glasses and catch up with each other. Jeff tells them about the alpha stupid enough to challenge him a few months ago.

 

“Did you kill him?” Alaina asks.

 

Jeff nods. “He was the third challenger in as many years. People seem to think that I’ve grown soft. Now, I don’t mind the occasional fight but I do mind the disrespect.”

 

Jim’s expression is disapproving but Alaina raises her glass to Jeff. “This is why I like you.”

 

“Enough about me,” Jeff says. “What about you two?”

 

Alaina grins. “Well, I Ieft the Earl of Glencraig, because let’s be serious, the castle was nice but he was such a bore. He wanted to play chess with me!” Alaina shakes her head at the memory, so harshly, that her red hair falls into her face. Carefully, she rearranges her long locks and gives Jeff a sly smile. “So, is that cute blacksmith still living in the city?”

 

Jeff laughs. “He lost a finger to the forge, but he’s still around.”

 

“Well, if a finger is all he lost...”

 

They all laugh, Sam brings them a round of the whiskey she keeps in the back and their conversation shifts to more serious topics. There’s always a war brewing and strife is growing in the mage’s Coterie of the Five. Even though Jeff usually avoids their local liaison like the plague because he doesn’t want anything to do with their dealings, he might have to pay her a visit soon to get some first-hand information.

 

Outside, the thunder crashes directly over them. The storm has finally reached the roadhouse and Jeff can’t help but wonder if Jensen will find shelter. It doesn’t freeze over during the night anymore but it’s still only spring and with the rain and the wind it’s gonna get chilly. Jeff listens to Jim tell a story about bard Robert’s latest mishap but his mind keeps wandering to Jensen.

  
  
  


Just when Jensen resigns himself to probably freezing to death in the biting wind and the ice cold rain pelting his body, he sees a light in the distance. He debates for a moment whether he should ask a stranger for help, then the sky cracks and shakes and a giant bolt of lightning shoots across the sky, its many arms so bright for a moment it’s almost as if it’s day. Jensen can see a little house up ahead of him, a rickety pentagonal tower built onto its side.

 

The cold spreading through him now has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with the building’s architecture. It might hold the key to Jensen figuring out what he needs to know, but right now he’ll take his chances with the thunderstorm.

 

As if the storm hears him and wants to prove its dominance, the wind picks up and the rain intensifies. Jensen can’t see more than a few paces and when he takes a step, he almost slips on the muddy road. During the next lightning flash, he spots a little grove of trees ahead which might give him shelter. It’s halfway to the little house with the tower but Jensen doubts whoever lives there will be looking outside the window in this weather. Unless they’re commanding the storm to make him come to them, of course. Jensen shakes his head at the paranoid thought. Timothy works alone and if his minions had caught up with Jensen, they’d jump on him instead of trying to lay an elaborate trap.

 

He hurries over to the trees and climbs the thick gnarly roots of a tree that are growing over ground. The treetops only provide a very limited cover but at least he’s not standing in the mud anymore. He wraps his arms around himself and hopes he won’t get pneumonia.

 

The next thunder shakes the sky so loud it hurts his ears. Another splintering crash follows, much closer, and Jensen looks up just in time to see one of the branches over him crash down through the shrubbery. Jensen jumps out of the way, landing in the wet mud and with a painful thud the tree limb hits his leg.

 

“Fuck!”

 

Jensen drags his leg out from under the branch and during the next lightning flash he sees a dark stain spread on his gray pants. 

 

“You really shouldn’t be out in this weather.”

 

The high voice startles Jensen and the haste with which he sits up makes pain shoot up his leg.

 

A few feet away, there’s a woman. She’s wearing a dark cloak with a few strands of bright red hair poking out from the hood and it takes Jensen a few seconds to process why she looks so strange. The rain, the wind — it’s not touching her. An invisible bell is protecting her from the storm. So Jensen’s meeting the inhabitant of the little house with the tower after all.

 

She steps towards him and stretches out her hand. “Come on. You must be hurting and cold. I can help.”

 

There’s nothing malicious in her eyes, no deception, no hint of evil. The raven on his back is quiet. Jensen takes her hand. Not that he has another choice here, really.

 

She helps him up and as soon as he’s next to her, he’s protected by whatever spell is shielding her from the weather. 

 

“Let’s hurry,” she says, her eyes worriedly searching his face. “Your lips are as blue as the violets in my garden.”

 

Jensen tries to speak but his teeth are chattering so badly that he just nods. Together with the mage, he hobbles towards her house.

 

“I’m Felicia,” the mage introduces herself. “And who might you be?”

 

“Jensen.” After a moment of deliberation, he adds, “a friend of Jeff’s. A very intimate friend if you know what I mean.”

 

Felicia’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are we at the point in our relationship where we brag about our sexual conquests already? Because then I can tell you about the hot fling I had with this dragon slayer who passed through town a few months ago.”

 

Jensen stares. He’s not sure if he’s being mocked or if Felicia is serious but then the path rises and he struggles to keep up on his injured leg.

 

They don’t talk again until they’re in the house. In a no-nonsense voice Felicia orders him to strip and draws a comfy looking armchair close to the small fireplace. Felicia’s house is bare, only the necessary furniture and no knickknacks lying around.

 

Jensen sheds his wet bag and clothes, only keeping his underpants and his shirt on and limps to the fire. He stands as close to the fire as he can bear and feels the heat prickling in his extremities. Looking down he examines the gash the tree left, but it’s not as big as he feared.

 

“Sit,” Felicia commands and hold up bandages and a pot with salve. “I’m not good with healing magic but this’ll help too.”

 

Carefully, Jensen stretches his leg out. “Thanks for helping me. I really appreciate it.”

 

Felicia gives him a bright smile. “Of course. I couldn’t just leave you out there. Besides, we’ll be good friends, I just know it.”

 

And then, while she cleans his wounds, applies the nasty smelling salve and wraps his leg, she proceeds to tell Jensen everything about how the great dragon slayer Tiio Horn had wooed her while her horse was getting new shoes at the blacksmith’s. 

 

Jensen tries to listen, to stay conscious and alert, but he’s finally warming up and the fire’s warmth and his exhaustion are quickly pulling him into sleep.

  
  
  


When Jensen wakes, the fire has dimmed down. Felicia is sitting in a rocking chair, knitting something that looks like a green and white scarf.

 

He sits up and flexes his leg. The pain’s still there but it’s much better than before. Whatever Felicia put on the wound, it worked. 

 

“You’re up!” she says and she sounds incredibly happy about that. “Do you want some food? I have lots of leftovers from my dinner.”

 

Now that she mentions it, Jensen realizes how hungry he is. “Sure. Food would be nice.”

 

Felicia gives him a bright smile and walks towards what Jensen assumes is the kitchen.

 

He has no intention of staying longer than he has to but it’s still dark out. Jensen is a realist. He’ll have to spend the night here and thankfully he won't do it with an empty stomach. And even though the lingering smells of herbs and magic threaten to drag up memories he’d rather not think about, Felicia doesn’t seem like the evil type.

 

Rationally, Jensen knows not all mages are evil. Probably not even every member of the Coterie of the Five. That doesn’t mean he’ll let down his guard. But if Felicia takes a liking to him, maybe he could come back, check out the tower. If it’s anything like a regular mage’s house, it’s full of all her books. It’s probably much better than a regular town library.

 

Felicia comes back with two bowls, filled with a steaming stew. The smell isn’t promising and when Jensen tries his first spoonful, he almost spits it out again. It’s truly disgusting.

 

“I hope you like it,” Felicia says brightly. “It’s my mentor’s old recipe. She said I never really got it right, but practice makes perfect, right?”

 

Jensen forces himself to swallow and then fakes the nicest smile he can. Felicia looks just too hopeful to disappoint.

 

“It’s good,” he tells her and he's glad she’s no werewolf. If she were, she’d definitely have detected the lie.

 

She beams at him and eats her own portion. Jensen wonders if she burned off her tastebuds in a freak experiment. 

 

“So,” she asks around a mouthful. “What brings you out here? Not that I mind the company! I don’t have much, company, I mean, not many people travel through here. Alpha Morgan, you know, he has a reputation.” She stops, then horror dawns on her face. “Not that I mean he’s a bad man or anything, he’s great.” She blushes and gesticulates so hard, she almost throws her bowl on the floor. “I still wish he wouldn't have killed that one challenger, that was really… but of course totally his right! I would never suggest he wasn’t right!”

 

Jensen fights to keep his face even.

 

“He’s so nice, and the one time he met with me, he was really polite, so really, I love him! I mean, not love-love, just like-love,” she backtracks quickly and now Jensen really has to laugh.

 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna tell him anything.”

 

Felicia slumps in her seat. “Oh, thank the source. Really, I mean no disrespect, it’s just so boring out here! When the Coterie sent me it sounded so adventurous, liaison to a werewolf pack, and such an old and powerful one! But Alpha Morgan doesn’t seem to like the Coterie much.”

 

Who does? Jensen thinks but doesn't say. The Coterie of the Five is the council of the most powerful mages. There aren’t only five of them, that’s a reference of the four elements and what they call the source, the magic they’re born with that allows them to manipulate the elements to perform magic. They advise rulers and people of influence and they maintain relations with the powerful creatures of the supernatural world. They propagate their neutrality and their purpose as advisers and helpers. But really, everybody knows they are a meddlesome bunch who are not above pursuing their own agendas and what they think is the right way. Thankfully there aren’t enough mages around to enforce their every whim. Yet, at least. If Timothy has his way, the future looks dark for every non-mage.

 

“I have no idea what Jeff thinks about the Coterie,” Jensen tells Felicia honestly — well mostly honestly. Being the kind of man Jeff is Jensen can make a pretty educated guess what he thinks about the Coterie and Felicia being here. “I can put in a good word for you, if you want,” he offers because he needs Felicia to be his friend. He needs information and she's the best source he's going to find out here. 

 

Her whole face lights up. “You'd do that for me?”

 

Jensen gives her a friendly smile. Felicia really is different from the mages he’s met before. “Of course. You saved my life tonight. And besides I'd love to be friends. I haven’t really met anyone out here yet, apart from Jeff of course, but he’s not really someone I want to be friends with, if you know what I mean.”

 

Felicia’s eyes start to sparkle. “Well, you’ll have to tell me all about what you want with him then.”

 

Jensen smiles conspiratorially and proceeds to tell her the lightly edited version of how he and Jeff met, leaving out all the suspicion and Jeff's questions about what exactly Jensen is doing in Lawrence. Because that's not something he can share with Felicia either. In the beginning when Timothy had first taken him, Jensen had thought about fleeing to the Coterie, leaving Timothy's punishment in their hands. Since Jensen can't be sure they won't kill him to destroy all of Timothy's work he'll have to come up with another way to be safe. With Felicia’s unknowing help, he might even be able to pull it off. As long as Jeff doesn't lose interest in him of course. But he'll worry about that when he gets back to the roadhouse. For now he’s going to bond with Felicia, the nicest, and most guileless mage he ever met.

  
  
  
  
  


Jeff wakes when the door creaks open. He keeps lying still, every muscle tensed in preparation for a fight, then Jensen’s smell registers. Jensen’s back.

 

It’s still dark outside, but the pitch black sky is giving way to the light blues of the breaking dawn. Jensen is slowly moving through the room, taking off his coat and boots. Jeff closes his eyes again, pretending to sleep and listens to Jensen taking the rest of his clothes off and walking over to the bed. Something’s off with his gait and when Jeff smells blood, he’s sitting up, reaching for Jensen before he knows what he’s doing.

 

Jensen flinches back but Jeff's got a good hold on him. 

 

“Fuck, you scared me.”

 

Jeff draws Jensen close and scans his body, trying to figure out where the blood is coming from. “You're hurt.”

 

Jensen tries to push him off. “The trees here don't like me, it's no big deal.”

 

Finally, Jeff finds the bandage wrapped around Jensen's left calf. “And who patched you up?”

 

“Felicia. Now stop smelling my wound, it's creepy and completely unnecessary. It's not that bad.”

 

Jeff looks up at Jensen then. Ever since he’s taken over as alpha almost two decades ago, looking after his people has become second nature. “Checking someone’s injury is never creepy or unnecessary.”

 

Jensen just rolls his eyes and takes the rest of his clothes off. Satisfied that he’s fine, Jeff reaches for him but to his surprise, Jensen stops him with his hands to Jeff’s chest.

 

“I might be fine, but it still hurts and I’m fucking tired.”

 

Jeff grumbles, but it’s more for show. He gets a slap to the shoulder for it, but then Jensen worms himself into Jeff’s arms. The little stray is really cuddly, almost starved for physical contact.

 

“I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” Jensen mumbles, already half asleep.

 

Jeff just strokes his hair and listens to his breathing even out. Jensen’s out like a light within a few breaths.

  
  
  


Jeff wakes on his back, Jensen lying between his legs and sucking his dick. Even though he’d been fantasizing about this from the moment he saw Jensen’s mouth, they hadn’t gotten around to it yet, until now. He reaches for Jensen’s head, just softly stroking his hair, because Jensen doesn’t need guidance or encouragement. The boy’s either a natural or he had a lot of practice. 

 

So Jeff gets comfortable, propped up on his pillow and watches Jensen blow him. It’s truly a religious experience and even though Jeff tries to last, to enjoy, it doesn’t take long for him to come. 

 

Jensen grins up at him with swollen lips. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

 

“How’s the leg?” Jeff asks with a scratchy voice.

 

“All good,” Jensen says.

 

Jeff just hauls him up into his lap and jacks him off, not quite able to form sentences yet. Jensen doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers dig into Jeff’s back, holding on as if for dear life until he comes, panting against Jeff’s shoulder.

 

They fall back against the headboard and Jeff’s relaxed enough to doze off again. Starting the day with Jensen in his bed is quickly becoming addicting.

  
  


They spend another day in bed. Sam sends up food and when they’re too tired to fuck, Jeff tries to start a conversation, getting some information out of Jensen maybe. But Jensen’s a clever little shit and finds the pack of cards in the nightstand. So Jeff indulges him and they play Queen’s Gambit until Jeff catches Jensen cheating and the subsequent playful wrangling leads to more sex. When the sun sets, they go downstairs and have a few beers with a bunch of traveling merchants. 

 

Jeff watches Jensen charm the group and tries to figure out which kind of news Jensen is after with his carefully phrased questions but he can’t figure it out.

 

When one of the merchants gets out his lute, Jensen sings. His voice is deep and smooth, and he hits every note. With practiced ease his voice carries through the room. The people in the roadhouse are spellbound and when he’s done singing they applaud wildly. More than one drink is sent to their table. Jensen accepts the compliments with smooth gratefulness. This is not the first time he’s performed for a crowd. 

 

“Where’d you learn to sing like that?” Jeff asks when the commotion finally dies down.

 

Jensen shrugs. “Natural talent.”  

 

Talent he might have, but Jensen has experience with performing and talent alone doesn’t grant one the ability to sing with flawless technique. Jeff’s not a great singer himself, but he has a good ear. Why Jensen is lying about this, he has no idea, but Jensen’s secrecy is slowly becoming frustrating. Jeff wonders if he’s worth the trouble. As if Jensen is sensing Jeff’s mood, he teases Jeff with his mouth that night until Jeff thinks he’s going crazy. Only then does Jensen take him in and ride him until Jeff sees stars.

  
  
  


It’s time to go back. The full moon is tomorrow night and Jeff’s been away longer from his pack than planned. He should have been back yesterday but the promise of Jensen in his bed was too enticing to leave. With the full moon coming, he needs to get home. His pack would survive without him for a few weeks of course, maybe even longer — Kim is a good second — but it’s important the alpha is present for the night of the full moon. It’s when their power is strongest, when the magic of the moon and the earth flow the most freely, Jeff’s the intersection between pack and land. It works, no matter where on packland he is, but it’s stronger the closer he is to his people. 

 

Jeff’s already up and dressed. Jensen’s still sleeping in the rumpled sheets. They stayed up late last night and they had a few glasses to drink.

 

The boy is still as much of a riddle as when Jeff met him. He’s not sure what to do about him, and it pisses him off. Jeff’s not the undecided type, if there’s a problem he takes action. But Jensen’s business is his own and Jeff has no right to stick his nose into it. If Jensen were to stay, that would be different. Then Jeff would have leverage to question him because no one stays on his land without permission and the pack’s territory extends far beyond their town in the woods. 

 

As it is Jeff will go back to his pack and Jensen will go his way. The knowledge is like an itch under his skin, Jeff hates unfinished business. For a brief moment when he woke this morning, Jensen lying with his head pillowed on Jeff’s arm, he even entertained the idea of inviting Jensen back to the pack village. 

 

Jeff shakes his head at himself. No one brings strangers to the village, least of all the alpha. He’d gotten out of bed without waking Jensen for a final fuck. The boy messes with his head badly enough as it is. 

 

“Leaving without saying goodbye?” 

 

Jensen’s sleepy-rough voice is almost enough to make Jeff go back to bed.

 

“I have pack business to take care of.”

 

The boy stretches, muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing. He sits up and eyes Jeff with a look he can't quite decipher. Behind the careless facade he’s trying to put on, there’s frustration and resignation and something else Jeff’s not quite sure about.  

 

“Are you coming back?”

 

Jeff shrugs. “Maybe.”

 

It’s a shit answer. There’s no reason he couldn’t come to the roadhouse after the full moon but he can’t keep making a habit of it and he’s already way too addicted to Jensen.

 

“Does it matter?” Jeff asks. “I didn’t think you’d want to hang around for long.”

 

Jensen shrugs. “I might. I made some friends in town, maybe got a job.”

 

Since Jensen never mentioned any of this the last few days, Jeff doesn’t think it’s true but it makes him wonder why Jensen would stick around. Jeff knows he’s good in bed but he never thought it’d be enough to make someone settle in a dingy roadhouse when the road is calling.

 

“Well, then, I might see you around.”

 

With a smile, Jensen gets out of bed. He’s completely naked and the sun lights his skin up in soft golden tones. 

 

“Have fun,” he says while he stands on his tiptoes to kiss Jeff on the mouth, but the tone of his voice reminds Jeff of the fun they had just last night.

 

He can’t stop himself from gripping Jensen’s ass and respond to his kiss. It’s hard and with a desperate edge that almost makes Jeff hesitate. When he pulls back, Jensen gives him a smile filled with dirty promises. 

 

“If you come by in the next week, you might find me at the saddler’s.”

 

“Good to know.” Jeff gives him one last kiss, then he leaves. 

 

It doesn’t sit well with him, leaving Jensen like this, but he can’t keep hanging around the roadhouse waiting for Jensen to decide to leave. Sure, the boy’s a damn good lay and a fun way to spend time, but Jeff has a pack to lead. He doesn’t have time for mysterious wanderers, no matter how smart, charming, talented or pretty they might be.

 

Outside, Jeff glances back at the second floor of the roadhouse one last time. He suppresses a self-deprecating smile. There was a time, decades ago, when he was the young mysterious wanderer, traveling through the lands, looking for adventure and searching for himself, leaving a string of lovers behind. If he’s honest with himself, he misses it. Life with the pack is good, but mostly quiet. It fills the need for company and society in him, soothes his wolf and gives him an anchor. But he remembers the rush of danger, the thrill of the unknown. 

 

He has to laugh at himself. The reason he’s so intrigued by Jensen is probably only half the boy and half what he reminds Jeff of. Jeff starts the walk back to his pack and wonders if he settled down too early. He doesn't come to a satisfying conclusion but with every step that carries him farther away from Jensen, his suspicion grows that he won't be able to stay away from him for long.

  
  
  
  


 


	2. Chapter 2

  
  


Jensen keeps lounging in bed long after Jeff has left but it doesn’t give him the same satisfaction as it usually does. He knew Jeff wouldn’t hang around forever but he’d hoped for an invitation or at least a concrete date for another meeting.

 

He needs to see Jeff again if he wants to follow through with his plan. Granted, his plan is still only a half-cocked idea and depends on whether he’ll find any useful information in Felicia’s library, but it’s more of a plan than he had before he came here. Before he met Jeff, he’d only planned to put as many miles between himself and Timothy as possible. But he can’t run forever and he doesn’t think Timothy will ever stop looking for him. Going to the Coterie for help is only a last resort. They could protect him but the cost might be eternal imprisonment or death. Jensen’s not willing to take that chance. As long as Felicia doesn't figure out what he wants and why, Jeff’s his best bet. The idea of using Jeff without his knowledge or consent makes Jensen uneasy. It’s a shit move, devious and selfish. It’s something Timothy would do.

 

There’s another reason he doesn’t want to play Jeff, which has nothing to do with morale and everything with the fact that he actually likes Jeff. He likes his gruff, easy demeanor, likes his dry humor and his casual aura of power. He likes the way Jeff kisses and fucks and he likes sharing a bed with him. Jensen hasn’t had a lot of human interaction, let alone touch for a long time and he enjoys just getting to touch people. Jeff’s incredibly physical and seemed to like Jensen being close. If Jensen uses him, keeps lying to him actually, there’s no way Jeff would continue whatever it is they have now. 

 

Jensen gets up quickly and washes himself, but the hurry doesn’t dispel his dark thoughts. He has to force himself to actually leave the roadhouse and take the path to the town. Felicia’s house is on the way but he has to find a place to stay first, then he can start with his little research project. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe there’s a way to make the protection temporary. Maybe Jeff will never find out. Jensen has to do some research.

  
  
  


First, he makes his way into town. He noticed when he visited the saddler to fix his bag, that the old man doesn’t have an apprentice and no one to help him around the house. So Jensen knocks on his door with his best harmless smile in place.

 

“Bag tear again?” the old man asks gruffly when he opens the door and spots Jensen. He’s not that old really, late sixties maybe, but he’s got a receding hairline and his beard is mostly gray, a stark contrast to his dark skin. “Told you you’d need a new one.”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “No, the bag’s fine. But I’m looking to stay in town for a while and I need a job and a roof over my head.”

 

The saddler crosses his arms in front of his chest. “And what’s that got to do with me?”

 

“I’m good with my hands,” Jensen says. “I don’t need a lot of space and I’m a decent cook. For three meals a day and a bed, I’ll help you with anything you need.”

 

“Who says I need help?”

 

“The pile of unchopped firewood and the stains on your pants. No offense,” he tacks on quickly, because the old man’s expression turns stormy. “But you turned away a big commission while I was here because you don’t have an apprentice to help out.”

 

“Yeah, well I don’t need one.” The saddler steps back and starts closing the door.

 

Jensen jumps up and grips the door. “And I wouldn't be one. I’ll just be around for a few weeks. I can help out around the house so you can catch up with work. Just for a little while, then I’ll leave.”

 

The saddler hesitates. 

 

“I bake a mean apple pie,” Jensen says in a last ditch attempt to change the saddler’s mind. 

 

“You’re determined, I’ll give you that.”

 

Jensen waits. 

 

Finally, the saddler sighs. “The name’s Steven Williams. You’ll call me Mr. Williams until I tell you otherwise. You don’t do as you’re told or get on my nerves, I throw you out.”

 

Jensen grins brightly. “Yes, Sir.”

 

Williams rolls his eyes but lets him in. 

  
  
  


Four days pass with cleaning, cooking and working. Williams is gruff and short with Jensen, but he’s not bad company. The work is easy enough and Jensen has a room to himself in the large attic. He’s stayed in worse places.

 

Jeff doesn’t come looking for him. It stings more than he thought it would. 

 

When the weekend comes around, Williams tells him to go out, have fun.

 

“I have a friend outside of town. I might stay the night,” Jensen says when he gets his coat.

 

“Friend, eh?” Williams gives him a probing expression. “Be careful there, boy.”

 

Jensen halts. “What do you mean?”

 

“The wolves are dangerous folk, no matter how charming they smile.”

 

A chill creeps down Jensen’s smile. “How do you know?”

 

Williams shrugs. “People talk. When the alpha spends a few days up at Sam’s people notice. And if there’s a young traveler with fey eyes and a voice of honey with him, they talk a whole lot more than usual.”

 

Jensen balls his hands to fists. Gossip is the last thing he needs. He doesn’t care about the people in town but if the story spreads, it could be dangerous. He knows what people do to a story they pass on and if, in a few months, Timothy’s minions hear the story of the powerful alpha and the fey boy who blew into town and bewitched him with his song, they might put two and two together. He hadn’t sung often in captivity, but sometimes, late at night, his parents’ favorite songs had given him comfort.

 

“It’s not like that.”

 

Williams raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

 

“Not anymore,” Jensen amends. “And I’m not going to the roadhouse anyway.”

 

Williams just shakes his head. “Just be careful. Wolves don’t bark, they bite.”

 

With that ominous warning, Jensen leaves the house. It doesn’t have the effect Williams intended because instead of danger, Jensen thinks of the last time Jeff bit him and it’s a memory he’d really like to repeat. 

  
  
  


Dressed in a bright green dress with long, flowy sleeves, Felicia’s waiting for him at the door. 

 

“Hermione told me you’re coming,” she says as explanation and points to the roof where a large raven is sitting, watching Jensen intently.

 

Warily, Jensen looks up at the raven. He’s not sure if the raven can sense what he is. Ravens are incredibly sensitive to magic and some of them even seem to have some kind of Sight, an uncanny ability to sense danger or intruders. 

 

“She’s not gonna hurt you, silly,” Felicia says, interpreting his wariness wrong, but Jensen doesn’t correct her. He has no intention of letting her know that she’s not the first mage he met.

 

“Oh, of course. The stare’s just a bit unnerving,” he tells her instead.

 

Felicia looks up at Hermione. “I told you not to scare the guests!”

 

“Do you get many guests?”

 

Sadly, Felicia shakes her head. “No. But you gotta be prepared, right? But oh gods, look what a bad host I am. Come inside.”

 

She waves him inside hectically, the sleeves of her dress almost hitting Jensen in the face. He evades them and follows her into the house.

 

They sit down in front of the fireplace and Felicia brings him a cup of tea. Jensen sniffs surreptitiously but it smells pleasantly of hibiscus.

 

“So,” Felicia begins and leans forward eagerly. “Did you tell Morgan about me? What did he say?”

Jeff never made the connection that the Felicia who had patched Jensen up was also the mage living close to town but he’d been occupied with other things at the time.

 

“He was very glad you patched me up,” Jensen says, which is not a lie. He’s become quite good at that, lying by telling the truth.

 

Felicia beams. “Great. Do you think he’ll invite me to come to the pack village soon?”

 

“No idea,” Jensen says darkly. He doesn’t want to admit he never put in that good word about Felicia to Jeff. “He didn't really tell me his plans.”

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Felicia asks worriedly.

 

“I don’t know,” Jensen says, stalling by emptying his tea cup. “He had to go back to the pack and he didn’t say if he was coming back anytime soon. I’ll hang around town a bit to make some money but I won’t wait forever, so we’ll see.”

 

Jensen’s not the sharing type of guy, not that he had much chance in the last years, but to his surprise he likes talking to Felicia. It’s a relief to talk about feelings for once and Felicia is an attentive listener. 

 

So he tells her what he and Jeff talked about, how they ended things. Felicia is sympathetic and tries to convince him that Jeff is sure to come back. Then she shows Jensen the letter her dragon slayer sent her and together they try to figure out if that means she’ll back to visit Felicia.

 

Time passes quickly, and when Felicia serves dinner, it’s bread, cheese and cold meat, all bought in town. Relieved, Jensen loads up his plate. With first Sam’s big roadside portions and then the food he got to prepare for himself and Williams he’s gotten used to eating regularly again. He’s glad Felicia’s meal is more edible than last time. 

 

Felicia also digs out two bottles of red wine from her pantry and together they finish them off in no time, with Felicia drinking the lion’s share. Felicia doesn’t seem to think twice about offering Jensen the couch when they’re done. Jensen has a feeling she’s more than tipsy but he takes it gladly and falls asleep to the fire crackling in the fireplace.

  
  
  


Jensen wakes with the rising sun. Quietly, he gets up quietly and goes outside to relieve himself. There’s no sign of the raven Hermione, but she could be inside. He inspects the architecture of the house. The tower built next to it is maybe double in height but there’s no door so Jensen goes back inside. 

 

From Felicia’s study there’s a door leading to the tower. Jensen knows that the tower houses a mage’s library and if he’s got any chance to find a way to protect himself from Timothy, it's going to be in there.

 

Just when he’s about to open the door, Felicia stumbles out of her room. She’s wearing a faded blue nightgown and her hair looks like Hermione nested in it.

 

She blinks at him owlishly. “You’re up already?”

 

“Old habit.”

 

She blinks again, then points at the tower. “There are books. I need pain medicine and then more sleep.”

 

Jensen grins. He mentioned last night how he loves to read, any kind of book really, but that he didn’t get a lot of chances recently. “Thanks. And don’t worry about me, you go back to sleep.”

 

She nods, then groans and rubs her forehead. “Red wine is just evil,” she mumbles and shuffles into the kitchen. Jensen waits for her to come back and disappear into her bedroom again before he pushes the door to the library tower open.

 

In stark contrast to the bare and neat rooms of the house, the pentagonal tower is a cluttered mess. There are books and scraps of paper everywhere and its walls are covered in shelves with a narrow spiral staircase going up the far side side of the wall. At regular intervals, walking platforms line the walls of the tower, all the way up to the roof. Jensen gets dizzy just looking at all these books and he has no idea how to find what he’s looking for.

 

Left of the door is a desk and next to it, a sort of cupboard with many small drawers. Jensen opens one of them curiously and finds small, square pieces of parchment, neatly stacked. In different intervals, darker cards are separating the square little pieces and they’re labelled.

 

_ Fey _ , Jensen reads on one.  _ Fey-dust _ ,  _ Fey-magic _ ,  _ Fey-realm _ is written on the next three cards, followed by  _ Family _ ,  _ Famine _ ,  _ Farming _ .

 

It’s some kind of alphabetical ordering system and Jensen wants to weep with joy. He searches the drawers until he finds the one containing the W-words. The werewolf stack is a big one. He pulls out all the cards. They each have a book title, a short description and some sort of letter and number signature. Jensen fervently hopes he’ll figure out the system. 

 

It’s not too hard. The signatures are sorted alphabetically by letter first, then within one letter, the books are numbered. Most werewolf books have a signature with W but some have others. A few are sorted in the M-section, with a lot of books about Moon Magic. It makes sense, Jensen supposes, not that it makes a difference to him. 

 

He picks about five books from the W-section, which is of course located in the top shelves, far away from the ladder. Jensen balances carefully on the thin walkway and thinks that this is a very dangerous way to store books. 

 

He gets down without breaking a leg and starts skimming books. There’s a ton of interesting information on werewolves in there — one day he’ll have to read the chapter about alphas in depth — but he finds nothing about werewolf magic.

 

Werewolf magic is closely connected to the moon, so that’s the section Jensen looks for next. When he’s balancing on the walkway only halfway up the tower, Hermione flies in, from gods know where, and caws loudly. Jensen almost falls off the walkway.

 

Grumbling, he gets down again. Hermione sits down on a stack of books next to him, watching him. It’s unnerving. A faint ripple runs over his raven tattoo.

 

“I’m just reading,” Jensen says. “Felicia told me I could be here.”

 

Hermione cocks her head to the side, still watching him.

 

Trying to ignore the giant raven sitting only a few feet away, Jensen starts reading again. The first three books hold nothing useful and the sun’s already shining in through the windows. Felicia is bound to wake soon. 

 

He’ll just have to explain his interest in werewolves with Jeff, he can’t give up now.

 

The next title reads “ _ The wolf, his pack, and their land _ ”. Finally. In his haste to open the book, Jensen flips past the table of contents twice before he can finally read the chapter names. Chapter four is titled “ _ The alpha — Link between land and pack. _ ”

 

Hunched over the pages, Jensen starts reading. 

 

It’s all in there. Jensen can’t believe his luck, but he found his salvation.

 

Mages, who carry their own magic deep inside of them, access it like a power resource. Not unlike a burning fire you have to fuel with wood when it dies down, a mage’s pool of power can dry out and they have to wait for it to recharge until they can use it again.

 

Werewolves, like other supernatural creatures, don’t carry their own magic. They draw in the magic of the land, or, in the case of werewolves, from the moon. The alpha acts as a link between the magic of the moon, the land, and his pack. He, or she, is the vessel the magic flows through to protect land and people. 

 

An alpha is a natural vessel for the moon. Jensen is an artificial vessel created to channel and draw every kind of natural magic. Timothy was the one who came up with the idea. 

 

A power hungry mage, he’d always ranted about having to bow to humans and creatures. The mages were too few to take control of the world like he wanted and the Coterie of the Five had no inclination to do so. Disgusted, Timothy had gone off on his own.

 

He’d passed by Jensen’s family on the road three years ago. They were camped in a forest, on their way to a big fair in the rich city of Essur. Around his neck, Timothy had carried an amulet and it had begun to glow when he’d neared Jensen. He learned later that it glowed in the presence of humans with supernatural heritage. Not enough to have natural access to magic, but enough predisposition to be influenced. Timothy's minions came that night and took Jensen away. It was the night before his nineteenth birthday.

 

Jensen wasn’t the only one Timothy took. They were a group of young adults — old enough to survive the elixirs and the spells, young enough that he thought he could influence them. In the end, Timothy’s careful selection didn’t matter much because most of them died. Jensen’s not sure, because they were all kept in separate places, but apart from himself, he thinks only two others survived. Timothy used to tell Jensen that he was his favorite, the one with the most promise. The tattoos bloomed the easiest on his skin, one for each spell of protection and strength Timothy cast to prepare Jensen’s body for the magic. Jensen spit in his face and told him he’d never give up on his freedom.

 

Fortunately for Jensen, Timothy couldn’t foresee what would happen to Jensen after all the spells and the experimental elixirs. When the raven tattoo on his back was completed, it took on a life of its own. Jensen still can’t use the magic he channels, but he doesn’t need Timothy anymore to access it. 

 

Now, he’s so close. He goes back to the book, searching for salvation.

 

In the end, it’s a simple ritual. A mage can draw a werewolf's magic out and then bind it to themselves with a potion of agrimony, knotweed, and witch-hazel. The book emphatically warns everyone but the most powerful wizard not to attempt this ritual, because, simple as it may be, it takes a large amount of power to draw a werewolf’s power and even more power and skill to keep the werewolf from killing whoever attempts this. But if the ritual works like Jensen hopes, it will bind himself to Jeff, and through him to his land. Jensen is not a mage who can wield magic and use it; he can’t carry it away with him. If he uses the pack’s power to bind himself to Jeff and the land, it will force him to remain within its power.

 

Jensen doesn’t need to fight a werewolf and draw his power. He can just access the natural power and channel it. It's not what Timothy intended for his vessel, he sought all control for himself, but his experiments hadn’t turned out the way he’d planned. Jensen had gleefully told him so and then punched him in the face before fleeing from Timothy’s minions.

 

Jensen hasn’t experimented a lot with the possibilities, he was more intent on staying innocuous and unnoticed, but he’d passed a magic spring once and he’d felt its power rushing through his body when he held his hand in the water. He couldn’t do anything with it, because he’s not a mage, but with the ritual the herbs would do the binding for him.

 

If Jensen was the praying type, he would pray for success. Instead, he memorizes the herbal components for the potion and puts the books back where he found them.

 

Hermione caws at him, her tone subdued, as if to tell him that this is a terrible idea. It probably is. Timothy will not be able to take him away from pack grounds. He could still kill him of course, but Timothy knows of Jensen’s aversion of imprisonment, no matter if it is in a large beautiful castle ground. A pack’s area is larger, but really no much different. It’s still a prison.

 

Timothy would just have to wait him out. 

 

Which leaves Jensen with the dilemma of trading one prison for another, really. The road never stopped calling him and he knows that longing in him will never fade. With Jeff, he hadn’t thought of it but it had only been a few days. And if Jeff could still want him around after Jensen used him like that…

 

Shit. Jensen slumps down in the armchair. He doesn’t know if he can do this to Jeff, if he can stomach Jeff’s rejection if he ever were to find out. 

 

Maybe the spell could just be something like a last resort, a backup plan. If Timothy never finds him, he doesn’t need it. He’ll just brew the potion to be safe.

 

Timothy will never think to look for him here anyway. Jensen will just stay as long as he can. Timothy might give up on him after a few years. Surely, Jensen will be able to stay in one place for that long. And if Timothy never comes here, Jensen won’t even need the potion, Jeff will never know. 

 

With a groan, Jensen buries his head in his hands. He’s so fucked. 

 

But lamenting never helped anyone, so he slowly leaves the tower and searches Felicia’s kitchen for the herbs he needs. She has all of them in stock and Jensen grinds the dried plants and mixes them with water. The concoction smells earthy but not unpleasant. He roots around the kitchen until he finds a small flask. He pours the potion into it, puts it into his pants pocket and sinks down in the armchair in front of the now cold fireplace. Slowly, he closes his eyes.

 

He’s startled by a rustling noise. He looks up and comes face to face with Hermione, who settles down on the table right next to him. Jensen jumps and almost falls out of the chair. Hermione just croaks at him.

 

Damn bird.

 

“Hermione!” Felicia’s voice is reproachful but she sounds awake and not in pain anymore. “Don’t scare our guest.”

 

Jensen waves her off. “No, it’s alright. I was just…”

 

“Lost in thought?”

 

Jensen nods. He doesn’t know how to explain this.

 

Felicia sits own on the floor and Hermione immediately flies over to her, perching on her shoulder. “I get like that too. I mean, I’m a long way from home.” Her eyes search Jensen’s face. “I get homesick and lonely. If I didn’t have Hermione, I’d go crazy.” She strokes the raven’s head. “You’re a long way from home too, right?”

 

Jensen’s throat closes up. He doesn’t think about his family often. He didn’t see it happen, but a day after the abduction, they passed by the burnt out wagons. A clean cut, Timothy had said while Jensen had cried for his family. 

 

“Maybe you’ll find a new family here,” Felicia offers quietly.

 

Jensen lets out a harsh laugh. “I don’t think Jeff sees me that way. And I’m not sure I could see him like that either.”

 

Hermione caws loudly. 

 

“Hermione thinks you should stop drowning in self-pity and do something about it,” Felicia translates with a grin.

 

Jensen rolls his eyes but Felicia — or Hermione — is right. He needs to get off his ass and be prepared. The minions are too close. He has to hope they give Jeff’s territory a wide berth or he’ll have to use the spell. He hopes fervently that it will be the former.

 

“I think I could eat some breakfast now,” Felicia says.

 

Jensen smiles at her. “Breakfast sounds fantastic.”

 

Felicia nods. “We have to do this again, next weekend.”

 

“Definitely.”

 

“But then, we’re going to Sam’s roadhouse.”

 

“Why?”

 

She smiles cryptically. “Because.”

 

It’s like talking to one of his little cousins all over again. He can’t help but smile and follow her into the kitchen. If Felicia wants to go out next weekend, he’ll indulge her. 

  
  
  


The roadhouse is packed. No one has to work tomorrow and people are drinking the week’s stress away. 

 

Jensen’s back tingles. It does that when he’s nervous or in danger. And then, of course, it tingled when he was with Jeff. Who is sitting in the back of the bar, at the exact same table the night Jensen first came into the roadhouse.

 

Jensen turns to Felicia who looks like the picture of innocence. 

 

“Oh look,” she calls out, “there’s Ruth! I’ve been dying to have a word with her.”

 

Ruth seems to be the slim woman with hair even redder than Felicia’s who is sitting, oh the coincidence, at Jeff’s table with a glass of red wine.

 

“Please remember to put in a good word for me, I really have to meet with the alpha and report back,” Felicia whispers, then bounds over to Ruth excitedly. “Ruth, so glad to meet you here!”

 

Ruth looks at Felicia in astonishment. “My dear child, I’d told you, you could find me here tonight. I had business to discuss with Alpha Morgan and…”

 

Jensen doesn’t keep listening to her. He’s too busy staring at Jeff, whose dark eyes are fixed on Jensen with a kind of hunger Jensen isn’t sure Jeff’s aware of showing. It makes his pulse quicken.

 

“You’re still around I see,” Jeff says, the dark timbre of his voice washing around Jensen in an almost familiar comfort.

 

“And you’re back here.” Jensen can’t keep his eyes off Jeff. He drinks him in, the strong features, the salt and pepper beard.

 

“I thought you were going to leave,” Jeff says, unable to move on from Jensen’s presence in Lawrence. Jensen wonders if that means that Jeff banked on him leaving.

 

“I found a job.”

 

“With the saddler,” Jeff says.

 

Jensen nods.

 

“How’s that working out for you?”

 

“It’s nice,” Jensen says but he’s not really interested in conversation right now. “Do you really want to keep talking about that or should we see if Sam’s kept your room empty?”

 

Jeff stands so quickly, his chair wobbles precariously. He walks towards the bar and, as if pulled by an invisible force, Jensen follows. Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Felicia grinning and giving him the thumbs up, but he can’t answer. Jeff’s already behind the bar, taking the key from its board. From somewhere in the tap room, Sam yells at him but he ignores her. 

 

With glowing eyes, he turns to Jensen and Jensen wastes no time following him up the stairs. On the landing, Jeff reaches for him, draws him in and kisses him without preamble, hard and deep. 

 

Jensen kisses back, gets his hands in Jeff’s leather jacket and pulls him towards the room. After two weeks of trying to push Jeff out of his mind, of coming to terms with the possibility of not seeing Jeff again, his desire hits him full force. 

 

Even though they don’t let go of each other, Jensen manages to push Jeff's jacket off, ripping his shirt open and making buttons fly everywhere.

 

“Fuck.” Jeff’s voice is whiskey rough and his hands grip Jensen’s ass to lift him up, carrying him the last few yards to the bed.

 

Unceremoniously, Jeff dumps him on the cover and immediately follows him down, crawling up his body like the predator he is. They undress in a hurry and without finesse. More buttons fly and seams rip and Jensen couldn’t care less. 

 

He runs his hands over Jeff’s skin, so warm under his hands and he has a second to think that he really has to ask Jeff about that strange tattoo on his shoulder, a man wearing a fool’s three-pointed hat with tiny bells while juggling skulls.

 

But then Jeff’s mouth trails up and down Jensen’s neck, licking and biting and Jensen can actually feel Jeff pause and just inhale, taking in Jensen's scent. It makes his heart clench in dark satisfaction and he digs his feet into Jeff’s ass for leverage and raises his hips. 

 

Jeff reacts immediately, bearing down and fumbling for the oil in the bedside table. Jensen spreads his legs wider to give him more room and Jeff groans. He abandons the glass flacon of oil and Jensen is just about to scold him when Jeff scoots down.

 

“Oh gods, yes.”

 

Jeff opens him up with his tongue and fingers, wet and dirty and Jensen can’t stop moaning. When Jeff finally slicks his dick up with oil and lines himself up, Jensen is about to fly out of his skin.

 

Jeff takes him hard and deep, burying his nose in the crook of Jensen’s neck. Jensen knows he’ll be bruised tomorrow and he doesn’t really mind. He wants to feel Jeff, long after this is over. 

 

It doesn’t take long for Jensen to come, to shudder and scream in Jeff’s arms and for Jeff to follow close behind. Panting, they lie on the bed.

 

Now that the frenzy is over, Jensen feels strangely shy. He hasn’t seen Jeff for two weeks, doesn’t know what it means that Jeff took so long to come back only to fuck him immediately. Jeff makes no move to touch him either, so they lie next to each other in tense silence.

 

Jensen doesn’t know what to do with this.

 

“I didn’t think you'd stay.” Jeff’s voice is harsh in the silence.

 

“I told you, I don’t have a plan.”

 

“You also said you wander.”

 

Jensen sighs. “What do you want from me here? I told you I’d stay a while and that’s what I’m doing.”

 

Jeff turns his head to look at Jensen. “I like that you stayed.”

 

Jensen can’t stop his mouth from smiling. “I like that you came back.”

 

Jeff stretches out one arm and Jensen takes it as the invitation it is and curls up against Jeff’s side. 

 

“What I like even more is the truth.”

 

Reflexively, Jensen tenses up but he forces himself to relax immediately. “About what? I really liked that you came back.” 

 

Jeff’s fingers slowly slide up and down Jensen’s back, over his still humming raven tattoo. “Why you’re really on the road, for starters. How you come to have a magical tattoo would also make a very interesting story, I’m sure.” He pauses. “Whatever it is that haunts you, you can tell me.”

 

Jensen closes his eyes. He wants to trust Jeff badly but he can’t. Not after only a few weeks of knowing him. But he needs to give Jeff something and he wants to share with him, wants him to help carry the pain.

 

“My family belonged to the Wandering Folk.”

 

“So that’s where you got your voice from,” Jeff says with the deep satisfaction of a man who knew he was right all along.

 

Jensen smirks in the darkness of the room. “Yeah. My parents were both bards.”

 

“Can you recite the Ballad of the Two Sisters? It always was my favorite.”

 

“A long time ago, in a land far away, two beautiful sisters did dwell. In a house by the creek, with a herd of white sheep, content and happy their hearts did soar until death came knocking on their door.” Jensen sang the first verse quietly and halting. He hadn’t sung those words in years but they still came easily.

 

After a pause, Jeff presses a kiss to his temple. “That’s beautiful. Why did you leave your parents? I thought the Wandering Folk usually stay together as a family.”

 

“They died,” Jensen says, and he can’t keep his voice from breaking. “They were killed in a raid.”

 

“I’m sorry.” Jeff’s voice is warm and gentle, wrapping around Jensen like a comforting blanket. 

 

“It was years ago,” Jensen says, trying to bring distance between himself and the memory. “I’ve been on my own ever since.” 

 

It’s true. Surrounded by all of Timothy’s minions, he’d felt truly alone for the first time in his life.

 

“Do you know who did it?” Jeff asks and his voice is hard. 

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Were they punished?”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “They vanished immediately after.”

 

Jeff’s expression darkens and his voice is almost a growl when he answers. “I can look into that. I have contacts.”

 

It surprises Jensen but Jeff’s concern touches something inside of him. And if he thought that Jeff could take Timothy, he might even be tempted to give him his name. But among the mages, Timothy is one of the most powerful. Even a werewolf couldn’t take him. 

 

“I have no idea where to start looking,” Jensen tells him, which isn’t a lie. Jensen doubts Timothy is still using the castle Jensen escaped from. 

 

“If you change your mind,” Jeff starts and Jensen stops him by leaning over and kissing him.

 

“I appreciate it.”

 

Jeff grumbles and his hand finds his way back to Jensen’s back. “What about this one? Mages don’t just go about the world tattooing humans they come across.”

 

“He took a special interest in me,” Jensen says, purposefully vague, and lets Jeff draw the wrong conclusion. 

 

“What does it mean?”

 

“Protection.” Another truth that isn’t exactly true, but this time Jensen must have done something to give himself away, because Jeff turns to him and eyes him intently. 

 

“And why is that a bad thing?” he asks, his eyes never leaving Jensen’s face.

 

Jensen looks away, tries to stay calm. “We didn't really part on the best of terms.” 

 

“Why?”

 

“He was very possessive, I wanted to travel,” Jensen says curtly. “We had words and I punched him in the face. He was not amused.”

 

Jeff lets out a surprised laugh. “Punching a mage in the face. You’re really something else.”

 

Jensen grins, glad that Jeff seems to accept his explanation. “Can we stop talking about him now? They’re not exactly pleasant memories. Besides, you haven’t told me any of your stories.”

 

“Mine?” Jeff asks in surprise.

 

Jensen traces the contour of the tattooed fool on Jeff’s upper arm. “I bet this one has an interesting story.”

 

Jeff smirks. “It does. But that’s too long for tonight.”

 

“Give me the cliff notes?” Jensen asks.

 

“When I was younger, I left my pack. I didn’t know what I wanted in life. The elders talked about me becoming alpha one day but I didn’t want the responsibility. I wanted to go out into the world, have adventures. So I did. I traveled for years.”

 

Jeff stops and smiles wistfully. “I’ll tell you those stories another time. Let’s just say I loved and grieved, I lost and won fights and I made friends and enemies. But in the end, I felt lonely. I wanted a pack, wanted the company and the bond. I came home and the alpha of my pack was a piece of shit. So I challenged him. I’ve been alpha here ever since.”

 

Jensen thinks about that, about Jeff’s urge to travel the world. He likes it. Maybe it’ll help Jeff understand him.

 

“Why the fool?” he asks curiously. “Wasn’t it a good decision to go?”

 

“You don’t know tarot, do you?” Jeff asks. “The fool isn’t stupid. He’s the one who goes into the world to find adventure and himself.”

 

“And the skulls?” They made Jensen wonder ever since he spotted them during the first night. They’re really morbid. He hopes they don’t number the people Jeff killed.

 

Jeff draws a deep breath. “I saw a lot of death in the world and he wanted to take me a few times too. I figured, it’s better to laugh in his face and fight than to cower before him.”

 

“I like that,” Jensen says quietly. “How—”

 

“Next time,” Jeff says with a  yawn.

 

“Next time?” Jensen asks, raising his head to scrutinize Jeff’s face.

 

“I come up here regularly.”

 

“How regularly?” Jensen pushes.

 

Jeff looks at him with a smile. “How about every weekend?”

 

Jensen hides his pleased smile against Jeff’s arm. “Sounds reasonable. Maybe you can pay Felicia a visit.”

 

“The mage?”

 

Jensen hums. “You owe her. She brought me here tonight.”

 

Jeff snorts. “Who says I wouldn't have come looking for you?”

  
  


Jensen smiles and falls asleep with the reassuring knowledge that Jeff wants to see him around.

  
  
  


Jensen wakes with the sun. Jeff, as always, is still asleep. With a smile, Jensen burrows closer against his warm body. There’s nowhere he has to go, nowhere he has to be. He dozes off again to the regular sound of Jeff’s breathing.

 

When he wakes again, it’s because the ravens on his back are buzzing like they’re trying to take off, beating their wings rapidly against his skin. His head whips around to the window. His tattoo only buzzes like this when the minions are close. Slowly, he gets up and walks to the window with measured steps. He needs to remain calm. 

 

On the horizon, he sees a line of stocky ponies coming down the soft-sloped hill. Fuck. The rumors about him and Jeff must have reached them quicker than he’d thought possible.

 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can’t let them take him, he can’t. To go back there — no. He’ll explain to Jeff, make him understand somehow, but he’s never going back. He didn’t almost die escaping and then starve on the road just to get caught now.

 

He turns to Jeff, who’s awake and watching him curiously from the bed. “What’s going on? And I heard your heartbeat spike, so don't even try to lie.”

 

Jensen swallows and lies. “Is it true that the bite of a werewolf turns you into a werewolf yourself?”

 

Jeff’s forehead wrinkles and he gets up and walks towards Jensen. “No, that’s just an old wives tale. Why?”

 

Jensen steps up to him, grips his shoulders tightly so his shaking hands don’t give him away. “So if you bite me, really bite me, does that still mean something?”

 

Jeff’s eyes darken. “It does.”

 

“Do we get werewolf married?”

 

Jeff huffs. “No. But if I leave a mark, it means you’re mine. Only mine.”

 

Jensen licks his lips. “I’d like that. When you’re with your pack and I’m here, people will know. That… I’d like that.” It’s not a lie, not in any way.

 

“Fuck.” Jeff’s eyes start glowing yellow and Jensen feels the magic buzz along under the werewolf's skin. “Are you sure?”

 

“Are you?” Jensen counters, goads really, and Jeff answers with a growl, picks Jensen up roughly and carries him to the bed. 

 

“It’s gonna hurt,” he warns while he manhandles Jensen on all fours. 

 

Jensen just scoots a little to the side so he can reach for his pants lying on the floor. He tilts his head to the side, stretching his neck and putting it on display. “I want it to.” And he does. It’s not even close to the punishment he deserves for what he’s about to do.

 

Jeff’s reaction is instant. He reaches for the oil, slicks himself up and pushes inside. Jensen’s still loose from last night but it still stings. Jeff’s hands run soothingly up and down his side while he sets a harsh rhythm. Jensen tries to concentrate on his pants on the floor, but Jeff is hitting the right spot deep inside of him unerringly.

 

Jensen moans and lets himself sink down on his elbows, letting one arm fall off the bed. A look over his shoulder and he sees Jeff is lost in their fucking. His eyes are glowing yellow and his canines are glinting white in his dark beard. When he leans down to mouth at Jensen’s neck, Jensen fumbles for the potion. He manages to uncork it after several tries. 

 

Jensen is breathing hard and he’s shaking, can't see straight from the feeling of Jeff fucking him hard and deep, but he manages to bring the little bottle up to his mouth and swallow it down. He has no idea how he’ll be able to pull off channeling Jeff’s magic when he’s such a mess, but then pain explodes in his neck. 

 

Jeff’s teeth sink into his skin, deep and painful and the magic Jensen usually just senses in Jeff, rushes into him like a torrent. He concentrates on it, tries to block out the pleasure and focus on the pure force of energy coming from Jeff. 

 

Something in him unlocks, opens up and the potion acts like a sponge, soaking up Jeff’s powers and containing them inside of Jensen like a storm in a glass jar.

 

Distantly he’s aware of Jeff howling, of his own orgasm wrecking his body, but it’s all second next to the vibrating magic inside of him.

 

“What—” Jeff rasps out, bracing himself on shaking arms over Jensen’s body.

 

With an almost painful effort, Jensen rolls himself around to look up at Jeff. The wound in his neck throbs. Slowly, Jensen reaches up, cups Jeff’s cheek and strokes his beard. 

 

“I’m sorry. I promise I will explain, but I didn’t know any other way. I’m sorry.”

 

Jeff flinches back, eyes filled with suspicion and anger. “What did you do?”

 

“I needed to protect myself.”

 

In a flash, Jeff’s out of the bed and pulling on his clothes. “Does that have anything to do with that cloud of evil riding over my lands?”

 

Jensen’s not surprised Jeff can feel the minions invading his territory. “Yeah. They want to take me away, want to take me back but I’m not going.”

 

Jeff’s nostrils flare as he scents the air coming in through the window. “I can protect you.”

 

“From them maybe,” Jensen says, “but not from the mage.”

 

Jeff looks like he wants to say something, but then his head whips around, towards the window. “Fuckers are fast,” he says and he throws his head back and howls.

 

It fills the small room, loud and absolute, shakes the whole roadhouse, and permeates every inch of Jensen’s body. And he can feel it, deep inside that place that contains Jeff’s power, the pack‘s power. The alpha called and the soldiers will come.

 

“I’m going to take care of whatever these things are and then you and I are going to have a talk,” he says darkly.

 

Jensen nods wordlessly.

 

Outside, Jensen can hear the dull sounds of the ponies’ hooves. 

 

“Any tips on how to kill them?” Jeff asks.

 

“You have to tear them apart and then burn the pieces. They’re just animated lumps of earth, sent to do his bidding.”

 

Jeff nods curtly, then leaves. 

 

From outside, voices carry up to Jensen’s window. A woman and a man are yelling at the minions, and when the door of the roadhouse opens, they address Jeff.

 

“What the fuck, Jeff?” the woman asks.

 

“Just kill them, Kim. Rip them apart. Matt, prepare a big fire, we’re going to burn the leftovers.”

 

Then the fighting begins. The noise rises up to Jensen. Thuds and grunting, the swish of long weapons rushing through the air interspersed by wolves hissing.

 

Jensen stays on the bed. He has no doubt Jeff and his pack can take care of the minions, but that doesn’t really matter. They found him. It won’t take long for Timothy to show up here. And once he’s close, Jensen won’t be able to hide anymore.

 

He’s still not sure if Timothy will be patient and wait. He might just kill him. But Jensen’s come this far, he won’t give up now. 

 

He just has to hope Jeff won’t be arrogant enough to try to fight Timothy. Jensen laughs hollowly. Maybe it’s a good thing Jeff will hate him now. Then he has no reason to fight the mage.

 

Just as the smell of smoke pulls Jensen out of his trance, the door opens and Jeff steps into the room. Jensen has no idea how much time has passed. He scans Jeff’s body for any signs of injuries. His shirt is torn and his hair ruffled. His fingers are caked in dirt but he looks uninjured.

 

“We burned them all. Now you tell me what the fuck is going on here. And don’t even think about lying or giving me half-truths. Whoever is after you, you brought them here, to  _ my _ pack, putting them in danger.” The fury in Jeff’s voice makes Jensen shake. “You tell me everything, you got it?”

 

Jensen nods. “Can we go outside? I need…” Jensen doesn’t know why but he needs to be surrounded by nature right now. Maybe it’s the pack bond. 

 

After a brief hesitation, Jeff nods and turns to leave the room. Jensen follows.

 

Next to the roadhouse just off the road, a bonfire is burning sluggishly. A woman with short dark hair and a broad shouldered young man with an impish smile are watching over it. There’s no sign of the minions or their steeds. Jeff’s people were thorough.

 

They look over at them curiously, but apparently they know Jeff well enough not to approach him in the mood he’s in. Jeff leads Jensen over the field behind the roadhouse, toward a little grove of trees. In the middle are a few boulders haphazardly strewn across a clearing. If arranged by nature or man is impossible to tell.

 

Under Jeff’s hard look, Jensen sits down.

 

“Talk.”

 

Jensen draws in a deep breath. He’s never told anyone this story before.

 

“I told you my parents were murdered and that's the truth. A mage called Timothy Omundsen killed them.”

 

Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up. “I’ve heard of him. A powerful man but he had a falling out with the Coterie of the Five years ago.”

 

Jensen nods. “Timothy thinks mages should rule the world. But because their numbers are too little, he wanted to create vessels so mages could channel more magic and become more powerful. He searched for humans with supernatural ancestry so he could use their natural disposition for accessing elemental magic to his advantage.”

 

Jeff crosses his arms in front of his chest. “And you were such a human. Let me guess, fey blood.”

 

Jensen nods, unsurprised. Timothy had always told him his eyes really gave him away. 

 

“So he had his minions take me. They killed my whole family. Timothy tried to tell me he did it for me, that I’d be so much happier if I could fulfill my potential, become truly powerful.” Jensen scoffs at the memory of Timothy giving him the speech. “He seemed to think I’d prefer living locked up in a castle over traveling the roads with my family.”

 

“So the tattoos…”

 

“To prepare my body to handle all the magic. To protect me.”

 

Jeff is quiet for a long time. Jensen doesn’t dare look up to him. He feels relieved, finally talking about what happened but he betrayed Jeff, made him an unwilling participant in his fight.

 

“How long?” Jeff finally asks.

 

“He took me just over three years ago. I’ve been on the run for eight months.”

 

Jeff sucks in a sharp breath. “Have you told the mage living here?”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “The Coterie might deal with Timothy, but—”

 

“They might kill you too,” Jeff finishes his sentence for him. “It’s a good guess. They hate embarrassments and signs of weakness. One of their own experimenting for power, it’s both.” 

 

“I tried to run, to get away from him.” The words are bursting out of Jensen, he can’t stop them, he needs Jeff to understand. “I never wanted to involve anyone else in this mess. I thought they’d never look for me in werewolf territory, but when I could feel them come closer… The spell was just supposed to be a backup, just in case. I didn’t — I didn’t know any other way to protect myself.”

 

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

 

Jensen scoffs. “Please. I’ve known you for all of three weeks, I have no idea if I can trust you. Besides, I know you’re powerful among your kind but even you can’t take Timothy.”

 

Jeff gives him a sharp grin. “You never know until you try.”

 

“Which is not something you want to do,” a new voice says, deep and cultivated.

 

The raven on Jensen’s back burns and he Jensen flinches and whirls around to see Timothy striding towards them, his long, dark cloak billowing behind him. His long, wavy gray hair is unruffled, his full beard neatly trimmed. The immaculate state of his fine clothes belies how far he must have traveled to find Jensen.

 

Jeff is completely unsurprised. He stands with his shoulders broad, arms hanging loosely at his side. His eyes have a faint glow and they never leave Timothy’s approaching figure.

 

“You’re the alpha, I assume,” Timothy addresses him. “I will forgive you for killing my servants because they did invade your territory and because you're obviously not aware that Jensen belongs to me. He ran away like the ungrateful child he is and I will take him back with me now.”

 

“Fuck you, you fucking piece of shit,” Jensen hisses.

 

“I think that means no,” Jeff says mildly.

 

Timothy’s haughty expression doesn't change. “I’m afraid his opinion doesn’t matter. I created him, so he is mine.”

 

“Jensen seems a bit more solid than those mud creatures you sent after him.”

 

Jensen is livid at Timothy’s claim. “The fuck did you create me. I’m my parents’ child, but that doesn’t mean anything to you, you bastard, because you killed them without a second’s thought.”

 

“To fulfill your potential,” Timothy says.

 

Jeff takes a step towards him. “So that’s the man who killed your parents?”

 

Jensen nods. “He wanted me so he killed my whole family.”

 

“Still so vindictive.” Timothy sighs. “Well, that’s really neither here nor there now. I will take the boy, and if you try to stop me, mutt, I will kill you, it’s as simple as that.”

 

“You can try,” Jeff says. “But Jensen’s part of my pack now. You can’t take him. He’s bound himself to the land.”

 

“Impossible.”

 

Jensen laughs harshly. “You’re the one who turned me into a vessel for magic,” he says. “All kinds of magic. And with a little help from a spell, I bound myself to this pack and this land. You can drag me to the edge of the territory and not an inch further. The land won’t let me leave and that’s a power even you can’t mess with.”

 

Timothy glares angrily, but then his expression smoothes out. “Yes, I can feel it now. Most curious that you imprisoned yourself here. And out of your own free will? Oh, that’s just precious. How long do you think you’ll last? A year? Two?” Timothy’s smile is cruel. “I can wait. I have other prodigies I can hone in the meantime. Granted, you were always my favorite, but you’re right, I can’t bend the earth’s and the moon’s powers.” He claps his hands. “Well, it seems we’re done here then. I will send some other minions of course, to watch you. The moment you leave, you’re mine.” He shrugs. “You might as well come now. I promise, I won’t punish you if you leave with me now. You’ll still get to go outside, stroll through the gardens."

 

“I'm never going back with you.” Jensen would rather kill himself.

 

Timothy shakes his head. “My dear boy, it’s just a matter of time. You know it, and I know it. The Wandering Folk never stay put. You’d rather kill yourself. So the moment you leave the protection of the spell, I will be waiting for you and I will drag you back and put you in chains. You think you’ve been imprisoned before? You’ll wilt like a flower in the shadows in my dungeons until you beg me for a walk under the sun.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Jeff says who watched their exchange quietly.

 

Timothy turns to him. “Oh?”

 

“You killed his family,” Jeff says calmly, but his voice carries. “You kidnapped him and experimented on him. Every court in this world would sentence you to die.”

 

Timothy looks at him in astonishment. “And you want to carry out the sentence?”

 

Jeff tilts his head to one side, then the other. Then he pulls his head back quickly, opens his mouth and long sharp canines gleam in his mouth. He flexes his hands and his fingernails grow into deadly looking claws. 

 

He gives Timothy a bloodthirsty grin. “Ripping you apart and watering my lands with your blood is what I want.”

 

An amused smile is playing on Timothy’s lips. “Do you really think your little transformation impresses me? The things I can do… Well, you’ll see.”

 

Jeff nods. “Arrogance is a warrior’s greatest enemy.”

 

“Ah, but I am no warrior, I am a mage.” Timothy raises his hands and a beam of pure energy shoots from them, hitting Jeff square in the chest and throwing him back several feet. “I would have let you live, you know. But an insolent challenge like that can’t go unpunished. So I will kill you like the animal you are.”

 

Jeff gets to his feet and shakes himself like a wet dog. “Well,” he says with a pleased grin. “Finally an interesting fight.” Then he runs at Timothy.

 

Timothy gathers a ball of pure magic between his hands, ready to annihilate Jeff, but when he shoots it forward, the ground itself rises to protect Jeff.

 

Jeff jumps the wall created by the earth and slashes against Timothy’s shield. Jensen has seen its impenetrable quality, but Jeff’s claws swipe through it and tear a bloody gash in Timothy’s arm.

 

Enraged, the mage steps back.

 

Jeff pauses to raise his dripping claw to his face and sniffs. “Smells like overconfident asshole.”

 

Timothy’s face is a hate-filled grimace as he gathers his power. Jeff grins and jumps.

 

Again and again, they clash into each other. Timothy’s shield continues to be ineffective against Jeff, so he abandons it. The jolts of magic he throws, Jeff evades or are blocked by the earth and the stones who protect Jeff.

 

Timothy tries to use the earth too, Jensen sees him make the large sweeping hand gestures, ineffectual with the pack land. The earth belongs to Jeff and his pack, and it will protect its alpha.

 

So Timothy conjures weapons, hurls them at Jeff and it doesn’t take long for the werewolf to start bleeding. 

 

The buzzing sound and singed smell of magic fills the air. Jensen feels almost as if he’s wrapped in a net of stinging nettles, his skin prickling uncomfortably and the ravens on his back burning. 

 

Jensen stands just outside the mayhem of the fight, where the magic is so thick it’s a visible shimmer in the air, helplessly watching these two men try to tear each other apart. Jeff’s still smiling, but it’s hard and strained and Timothy’s expression of arrogance has given way to deep concentration. Jeff is stronger than Jensen thought, he’s an even match for Timothy.

 

The thought must occur to Timothy as well, because when Jeff’s on his back the next time, the mage pulls an amulet out from under his shirt. Jensen recognizes the blood red stone immediately.

 

“No!” Jensen’s scream drown in the sounds of the magic.

 

The amulet is a natural source of power but dangerous to its user. It feeds on their life energy while they draw on the stone’s magic. But only a few seconds of the stone's power might be enough to kill Jeff. Jensen can’t let it happen.

 

He stumbles over the uneven ground, watches in horror as Timothy raises the stone and mutters an incantation. Jeff’s on his feet again, watching warily, no idea what’s coming. 

 

Timothy cannot finish his spell.

 

Jensen launches himself at Timothy who only has eyes for Jeff and didn’t see him coming. They collide and when Jensen grips Timothy’s hand and their bare skin meets, Jensen feels the full force of Timothy’s power at his fingertips.

 

Their eyes meet, Timothy’s burning pale blue in anger and scorn. “You can’t touch me boy,” he whispers.

 

Jensen grins. “You experimented one too many times, old man. The raven is a part of me now.”

 

In the beginning, Jensen could sense the magic but Timothy was the one who steered its flow. But ever since the raven on his back was complete, the magic somehow brought it to life, turning it into a warning bell, and more importantly, a tool for Jensen to grip and latch onto magic.

 

It’s what he does now. Concentrating on each tiny raven prickling on his skin, he closes his eyes, visualizes the formation and then pushes them into flight.

 

Like a dam breaking, Timothy’s magic rushes into him like a wild torrent. Jensen falls back, but his body is consumed by the sheer amount of magic, nothing else registers. He feels like he’s being torn apart, spun upside down in a weightless place.

 

Sounds of fighting, screams and punches wash over them, but he doesn’t understand what it means. There’s nothing but the rushing of magic in his mind. It grows and expands, presses against him from the inside like it wants to burst out. It’s going to tear him apart.

 

It’s too much, Jensen needs to get rid of it but he doesn’t remember how, can’t think anymore.

 

There’s another blast and a very human scream, then feet pound the torn up ground. He forces his eyes open to see Jeff kneel down next to him.

 

“Jensen? Shit, what’s happening to you?”

 

Jensen raises his shaking hands, and sees them glow, yellow and blue light flickering and crackling around his hands.

 

“Too much,” he pants out. “I drew his magic so you could take him but it’s too much.”

 

“Then get rid of it!” Jeff shouts.

 

“Can’t. Just a vessel.” Jensen’s shaking so hard he has trouble forming words. “Timothy always guided it, took it. I can’t…”

 

Below him, the earth is humming, a dark vibration, almost soothing against the violent shaking. Jensen doesn’t understand the new sensation, but there’s a pull coming from below him, a pressure inside of him where he bound Jeff’s powers. 

 

The pack’s land is calling. Of course.

 

Jensen heaves himself up and around, presses his palms to the ground. The earth sighs and moans and then Jensen searches for the connection and pushes.

 

All the magic whirling inside of him rushes out of him and into the earth, cracking a lightning shaped tear into the ground. It seems to take an eternity until Jensen collapses onto the ground, completely drained. All that’s left is the dark and protective warmth he’s come to associate with Jeff.

 

Jeff. Fuck. He wants to tell him sorry, check if he’s injured, but he’s too tired to move. Everything goes dark.

  
  
  


He wakes in the bed in Sam’s guestroom. Jeff is sitting in a chair next to the bed, dozing. He’s not wearing a shirt and his body is littered with dried salve covering angry looking wounds. His pants are torn in several places and his naked feet seem strangely vulnerable.

 

Jensen flexes his body, but he feels surprisingly good. His head hurts, a distant throbbing, but he had worse when he got drunk the first time on his uncle’s red currant schnapps. 

 

“You look like you need the bed more than I do,” Jensen says and his throat feels raw. He must have screamed a lot without realizing.

 

Jeff’s instantly awake, but he doesn’t move from his chair. “I’m fine.”

 

“You don’t look fine.” Jensen looks away. “I can leave, if that makes it easier for you.”

 

Jeff snorts. “Don’t be silly.”

 

He gets up from his chair and crawls into bed with Jensen, complete with bloody and dirty pants. He lies down next to Jensen but he’s careful not to touch him.

 

“I’m sorry,” Jensen starts. “I didn't want—” 

 

“I know,” Jeff says firmly. “You told me all of this yesterday.” 

 

Jensen swallows. “So now what?” He doesn’t want to hear the answer but he has to ask.

 

“Well,” Jeff drawls slowly. “I can’t fault you for wanting to survive and I can’t fault you for not trusting me. Not the best judgment but I can see where your mistrust stems from. So if you’re wondering if I am going to punish you, the answer is no.”

 

“I didn’t think you would. But I also don’t know if you still want me around.”

 

It takes a while before Jeff answers. “You made yourself a prisoner with that spell. Timothy said you wouldn’t have been able to stay, even if it was the only safe space.”

 

Jensen shakes his head. “It’s not a prison if I chose to stay. But Timothy wouldn’t understand that.”

 

“Will you stay, now that you can leave?”

 

Jensen looks out the window, over the hills to the west, where the sun is setting, casting the landscape in red and golden light. He’s free. For the first time in three years, he can go wherever he chooses. He doesn’t have to take care to keep moving, doesn’t have to avoid making friends and leaving impressions. He doesn’t have to think about which way the minions will assume he goes and then take the other one. 

 

The world’s lying to his feet and he can take whatever path he wants. 

 

He looks over to Jeff. Jeff, with his dry wit and the raspy voice that showers Jensen with praise. With hands strong enough to tear apart a human, which always touch Jensen so reverently. He’d risked his life for Jensen’s safety and for his freedom.

 

The werewolf his watching him intensely but there’s a resignation in his eyes, a sadness.

 

“Would you mind if I left?”

 

“Not as long as you come back some time.” Jeff says it without hesitation, like he’s thought about it before.

 

Jensen takes Jeff’s hand. “You’d wait for me?”

 

There’s pain in Jeff’s eyes when he smiles. “I’d wait for you,” he says, like he’s baring his soul to Jensen.

 

Jensen doesn’t know if he is, but he wants to find out.

 

“Good to know. Maybe one day we’ll find out. For now, I think I’ll stay.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can come find me on tumblr [here](http://ashtray-thief.tumblr.com/).


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